22-31. Where its gods had established their dwellings, where their daily rations were offered, their daises erected, where the sacred royal offering (?) and the evening meal in their great banquet hall were destined for the pouring out of choice beer and syrup -- Nibru, the city where the black-headed people used to cool themselves in its spreading shade -- in their dwellings Enlil fell upon them as if they were criminals. It was he who sent them scattering, like a scattered herd of cattle. How long until its lady, the goddess Ninlil, would ask after the inner city, whose bitter tears were overwhelming?
32-41. As though it were empty wasteland, no one enters that great temple whose bustle of activity was famous. As for all the great rulers who increased the wealth of the city of Nibru -- why did they disappear? For how long would Enlil neglect the Land, where the black-headed {people} {(1 ms. has instead:) Land} {(another ms. has instead:) city} ate rich grass like sheep? Tears, lamentation, depression and despair! How long would his spirit burn and his heart not be placated? Why were those who once played the cem and ala drums spending their time in bitter lamenting? Why were the lamenters sitting in its brick buildings? They were bewailing the hardship which beset them.
42-49. The men whose wives had fallen, whose children had fallen, were singing "Oh our destroyed city!". Their city gone, their homes abandoned -- as those who were singing for the brick buildings of the good city, as the lamenters of wailing, like the foster-children of an ecstatic no longer knowing their own intelligence, the people were smitten, their minds thrown into disorder. The true temple wails bitterly.

[link to etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk]

Sooooo

the backs destroyed their own city???

hmmmmm