Marge Piercy. Elizabeth Bronte Browning. Edna St. Vincent Milay. Barbara DeCesare. Lauren Carey. These are women whose poetry I love. Some of them you may know. Some of them, well they haven’t yet received the attention they deserve. All of these poets have written words that spoke to me. They’ve all strung together lines so beautiful I’ve had to catch my breath. And now, having read Cass Dalglish’s translation of the first signed literature in the world, “Humming the Blues,” I can now count the poet Enheduanna among them.
Enheduanna was a poet, prince (they didn’t recognize gendered version of words), and priest of Ur (southeast of Baghdad in present-day Iraq) in the year 2350 BCE. She is the first person in history to sign a name to writing, and she is a woman.
Dalglish’s dedication to this project is astounding. Each symbol of Enheduanna’s Sumerian pictographs have multiple meanings, so the transcription process was no easy task. But it’s clear through her reverence toward the work in her introduction and afterword that the translation was a labor of love. Literature and history owe a lot to Dalglish, since it is only through her translation that Enheduanna’s epic story come to life.
Enheduanna’s story is indeed epic, overthrown from her high ranking position by a usurper and left to wander the hills of Sumar her poems detail a life that rivals legend. Throughout her journey she writes to the God (or Goddess, no gendering, remember) Inanna for help her on her journey. Inanna, a deity who the Sumerians believed reigned over heaven and earth is famous for her trip to hell and back again; and as Enheduanna calls on her for guidance through the song of her words, their legends become forever intertwined.
Though the story in of itself is worth picking up Humming the Blues, the poetry of Enheduanna is even more enthralling. When I first read through the book I started dog-earring the poems I loved. It wasn’t long before almost every page was bent back. Lines like, “You’ve got an eye for trouble/Inanna, you’ve braided danger into your hair and you make it look/glamorous—right up to the moment when you open the floodgates of hell” made me sit back in my chair. The pure feminine power of those lines gave me chills. And even though I’m not making my way to hell and back again, I can relate to Enheduanna’s words.
That is, in essence, the magic of poetry. One beautiful line can mean a thousand different things depending on the reader. Label it reader response, but the lines “But no one bet the drums/for you in that other world; no one knew your song there; no one spoke/of the abundance of your charm,” reminds me of every time in my life I’ve felt like an outcast.
Enheduanna’s words can even be applied to the election! (Ok, just come with me on this.)
This was a land of plenty/a place full of promise, but who knows what to do know? Who’s to say/ what’s coming next?
Ok, so maybe that one’s a stretch, but the point I’m trying to make is that Enheduanna’s poetry is still very relevant. It’s timeless. It’s gorgeous. And it is historically significant. If that’s not enough to make you want to purchase a copy, I’ll leave you with this line, “I was born to scale the mountain of desire.”
So was I Enheduanna.
“Humming the Blues” by Cass Dalglish is available from Calyx Books at www.calyxpress.org.
Thank you to Calyx for allowing me to review this stunning work.
