|The sorcerer, farmer of the best seeds, directed his steps towards Ereš, the city of Nisaba, and reached the animal pen, the house where the cows live. The cow trembled with fear at him in the animal pen. He made the cow speak so that it conversed with him as if it were a human being: "Cow, who will eat your butter? Who will drink your milk?" "My butter will be eaten by Nisaba, my milk will be drunk by Nisaba. My cheese, skilfully produced bright crown, was made fitting for the great dining hall, the dining hall of Nisaba. Until my butter is delivered from the holy animal pen, until my milk is delivered from the holy byre, the steadfast wild cow Nisaba, the first-born of Enlil, will not impose any levy on the people." "Cow, your butter to your shining horn; your milk to your back." So the cow's butter was …… to its shining horn; its milk was …… to its back …….