A hymn to Inana (Inana C)

She stirs confusion and chaos against those who are disobedient to her, speeding carnage and inciting the devastating flood, clothed in terrifying radiance. It is her game to speed conflict and battle, untiring, strapping on her sandals. Clothed (?) in a furious storm, a whirlwind, she xx the garment of ladyship. When she touches xx there is despair, a south wind which has covered xx. Inana sits on harnessed (?) lions, she cuts to pieces him who shows no respect. A leopard of the hills, entering (?) the roads, raging (?), xx, the mistress is a great bull trusting in its strength; no one dare turn against her. xx, the foremost among the Great Princes, a pitfall for the disobedient, a trap for the evil, a xx for the hostile, wherever she casts her venom xx.