Cuneiform 102 · Chapter 07

Warm-up · 6 quick retrievals from earlier chapters
  1. 𒈠 — read it

    [ma]workhorse · MA · [ma] — a spelling workhorse

  2. 𒅆 [igi] — what does it mean?

    eye · IGI · eye; face; before — igi PN, "witnessed by"

  3. abundance — draw it, then check

    𒆷 [la] · LA · [la]; abundance

  4. 𒎏 — read it

    [nin]lady · NIN · lady, queen, mistress

  5. 𒉆 [nam] — what does it mean?

    fate · NAM · fate, destiny; abstract-noun prefix

  6. stone — draw it, then check

    𒈾 [na] · NA · [na]; stone in some words

I am king

Chapter 06 closed with a promise: the little word that lets a king say “I am” — and the palace-sized vocabulary that follows it. Here is the surprise this chapter opens with: the little word is not new. You have owned both of its signs since 101 and since chapter 00 of this very course. What is new is only the vocabulary a king reaches for once he can say it.

Batch eight

SignNameKeyReadsMeansNotes
𒆬KU3pure[ku] pure, holy; precious metal (silver) silver is "pure metal"; the fuller kug surfaces before vowels
𒈤MAHexalted[mah] great, exalted the majesty word — nam-mah, "majesty"
𒌧KALAMthe Land[kalam] the Land — Sumer, as its own texts name itself not "a land" but the Land — kings are lugal kalam-ma, "king of the Land"

Five times each, aloud as you write: ku3, mah, kalam. That is the eighth batch of this course, and this one is not idle vocabulary — every sign in it goes to work before this chapter ends.

Grammar bite — the little word for “to be”

Sumerian builds “I am X” by gluing a short tag onto the end of X: -me-en. Attach it to lugal, “king,” and you get lugal-me-en, “I am (the) king.” Now look closely at what that tag is made of:

𒈗𒈨𒂗

lugal- me -en

Assembled from your own inventory, sign by sign: 𒈗 lugal ("king," 101 ch. 06) + 𒈨 me (this course's very first sign, ch. 00) + 𒂗 en (101 ch. 10) — "I am king." Zero new signs. This chapter's batch is not what says it; it is what royalty says with it.

Me and en are both veterans doing new work, not new entries — you met me as “rites, divine powers” and en as “lord, high priest,” and neither of those meanings has gone anywhere. Fused together as a suffix, the same two signs spell the copula: not a noun and a title standing side by side, but the verb “to be” itself, riding on the end of whatever it names. This is exactly how it appears in a real hymn’s opening line:

𒈗𒈨𒂗lugal-me-en"I am the king" — the incipit line by which an Old Babylonian library catalogue identifies a royal hymn, the kind that opens by having the king speak in his own voice
Y2, an Old Babylonian catalogue tablet at Yale listing the opening lines of Sumerian literary compositions. Entry A.1. urn:nabu:etcsl:0.2.12:A.1 · license: ETCSL · non-commercial.

A librarian, thousands of years ago, filed a whole hymn under its first three signs — because the hymn itself opens with the king announcing exactly what those signs say. Many Sumerian royal hymns work this way: the king does not get introduced in the third person; he speaks, and the first thing out of his mouth is lugal-me-en.

One more thing, worth a single sentence and no table: Sumerian also has a third-person copula, “it is” or “he/she/it is,” which shows up as -am3 — commonly written with two more old friends of yours, 𒀀 and 𒀭. A real line at the end of this chapter puts it to work, as soon as its other pieces are yours.

Vocabulary that leans on it

Now the batch goes to work. Nam-mah, “majesty,” is chapter 03’s abstraction-maker in front of this chapter’s new majesty word — the same production line that turned lugal into nam-lugal, “kingship”:

𒉆𒈤nam-mah"majesty, greatness" — nam- (abstraction, ch. 03) + mah, this chapter's new sign for "great, exalted"
CDLI P010059 via Nabu, urn:nabu:cdli:p010059:reverse:3:10 · license: attribution.

And ku3 alone, in a phrase that shows why “pure” and “silver” are, in practice, one word:

𒂍𒆬e2 ku3"the pure house" — a temple's stock epithet, house + pure
CDLI P010644 via Nabu, urn:nabu:cdli:p010644:obverse:3:2 · license: attribution.

A temple is not just a house; it is the pure house — the same word that, applied to metal, means silver. One sign, one idea, carried into two different rooms.

The genitive’s hidden consonant, caught in the open

Chapter 02 taught you the genitive -ak and warned you it likes to hide: e2 lugal-ak, “the king’s house,” routinely surfaces on clay as e2 lugal-a, its final /k/ swallowed. That chapter promised the /k/ comes back the moment a vowel gives it somewhere to land. Here is that promise, kept, in kalam, this chapter’s own new sign:

From a praise poem of Enlil-bani. urn:nabu:etcsl:2.5.8.1:181 · license: ETCSL · non-commercial.

Read the chain slowly: kalam (“the Land”), then -ma- — the word’s own final /m/ written again as glue, the same job chapter 05’s -la- did for til — carrying the genitive’s vowel, and then the genitive’s /k/ stepping fully into view in -ka because, this time, a vowel follows for it to stand on. And that vowel is no filler: it is the locative -a from chapter 01’s tag list — the line says “in (the house) of the Land,” and the house the poem has just named is the e2-dub-ba-a itself, the tablet house, which chapter 16 will walk into through this very passage. Genitive /k/, held up by a locative — this is the exact mechanism chapter 02 described in the abstract, now sitting in front of you written out: the tag was never gone, only shy.

From The temple hymns. urn:nabu:etcsl:4.80.1:392 · license: ETCSL · non-commercial.

Here the same kalam-ma sits at the end of the line, /k/ hidden again, exactly as chapter 02 predicted it would — one phrase catching the consonant out in the open, another catching it hiding, and now you can tell the difference on sight.

One more thing rode into that line and deserves to be named: the -zu on nin-zu is chapter 03’s knowing-sign 𒍪 in a second job — as a suffix it means “your.” You already own its partner: the -ni, “his/her,” inside chapter 05’s nam-ti-la-ni-še3. -zu is the “your” of that same family, and the register this chapter opened leans on it constantly — praise is always spoken to someone. A veteran sign, a new reading; the verb “to know” has not gone anywhere. In fact it is working both jobs in that one line: a-zu, the healer, is — by the traditional reading — “the one who knows the waters”: 𒀀, 101’s very first sign, plus the knowing 𒍪. Suffix “your” on the lady, verb “know” inside the healer’s title, three signs apart.

And now that -zu is yours, the third-person copula from this chapter’s grammar bite can stop being an abstraction. Here it is on a real line, wearing this chapter’s own vocabulary:

From Ninurta's journey to Eridug, a hymn whose praise runs in pairs — "your city is majestic, your house is majestic." urn:nabu:etcsl:4.27.02:D.8 · license: ETCSL · non-commercial.

Lugal-me-en said “I am”; e2-zu mah-am3 says “it is.” Between them, the copula’s two faces — and every sign in both is yours.

Drill before you go on

  1. Write 𒆬, 𒈤, 𒌧 from memory; say ku3, mah, kalam.
  2. Write lugal-me-en from memory, sign by sign, and say what each of its three signs meant before it joined this phrase.
  3. Build nam-mah and e2 ku3 in signs, and give both meanings each carries.
  4. Read kalam-ma-ka aloud and explain, in one sentence, why its /k/ is written out while the /k/ in e2 lugal-ak usually is not.
  5. Write e2-zu mah-am3 from memory, name which two old friends spell the -am3 — and say in one sentence how it differs from -me-en.

Next: the verbal chain taken apart — the prefixes ba-, i3-, and in-, and how Sumerian says no.

Read it cold

This chapter's last reading, once more — script only. Read it aloud before you unfold.

Check yourself
From Ninurta's journey to Eridug, a hymn whose praise runs in pairs — "your city is majestic, your house is majestic." urn:nabu:etcsl:4.27.02:D.8 · license: ETCSL · non-commercial.