The Fury of Babylon (Mušḫuššu)

Born in the crags where eastern ridges climb, Before the mud-brick temples bowed to time, A viper-crested sovereign crowned with venom-sheen, With heavy coiling mass and fangs razor-keen, He ruled the shadows where the ancient rivers run. The arid wind exhales across the desert floor, An ancient dread awakens at the temple door. Rise from the shadows of the mountain crest, The furious serpent bares an armored chest! No mortal spear can turn the striker back, When star-flecked armor clears the desert track! He rears aloft with sweeping curves of jagged horn, A sacred terror since the ancient world was born, The barbed and stinging tail whips through the burning dust, Beneath the midday glare of predatory lust, A living herald bound to execute decree. The ramparts shake along the river bend, Before the wrath that mortal flesh cannot defend. Behold the sovereign of divine command, Whose gilded coils divide the shifting sand! From mountain passes to the royal gate, He strikes to seal the empire’s fate! Down to the royal avenues of sacred tile, He came to guard the terraces across the mile, Beside the golden thrones he coiled without a sound, Where sacred avenues met consecrated ground, A sleepless sentinel whose gaze outlives the court. Though dynasties collapse to forgotten mounds of sand, His star-lit coils endure across the broken land, Beneath the burning sun of Mesopotamia’s sky, Where ruined monuments and broken altars lie, The guardian endures beyond the reign of kings. The ancient kingdoms crumble into dust, The royal scepters turn to desert rust, Though mortal monarchs fall and cannot reign, The star-lit coils of lapis still remain!