Classic Poem

I delve in the temple of Niffer,
The town that Oannes planned
Ages ere Babylon lifted
Her towers in Nebo's land.

The levels of Accad and Shinar
Around me glimmer and steam;
And I swoon in the quivering slumber
Of fever; and madly I dream.

O copperhued spademen of Accad,
Why do you bellow for gold?
Backsheesh is the cry of the living;
And you went to Sheol of old.

A myriad moons before Nimrod
You tickled these plains with the hoe,
You walled and turreted Niffer,
You routed the Kings of the Bow.

But now you are dead as Merodach,
And I am as dead as you;
So let us shovel, O brothers,
To bury each other anew.