Madduwatta (sometimes given as Madduwattas) was a king of Arzawa, in Anatolia, about 14th or 13th century BC.
Perhaps, Madduwatta was first a local king of a Lukka city-state at coast of southwestern Asia Minor.
He faced a struggle, in the Lukka Lands, against a "man from Ahhiya", named Attarsiya (or Atreus, in Hellenized rendering) and lost his rule. Tudhaliya II, great king of Hittite Empire, gave Madduwatta asylum, and even gave him the mountainous kingdom Zippasla (i.e. Sippylos, the mountainous part of Lydia?) with the Siyanti River Land (Maeandrus river?); but, on condition that Madduwatta use it as a base to invade Arzawa.
When Madduwatta did this, Kupanta-Kurunta, king of Arzawa, destroyed his army and occupied Zippasla. Once more, Tudhaliya defeated Madduwatta's enemy and restored Madduwatta to his throne. And then, Madduwatta's previous enemy Attarisiya attacked Zippasla, with 100 chariots. This time, Madduwatta did not even defend himself, but fled a third time to the Hittites. Tudhaliya sent a third army under Kisnapali (a Hittite general) to the land to drive Attarissiya out. This time, the Hittite army was ordered to stay.
Don't waste your lips on words I've heard before
Kiss my tired head.
And each letter written wastes your hand, young man
Come and lead me to your bed
You gave me hope that I'd not lost her
And then thought it rather strange to see me smile-
as I don't do too much smiling these days.
She put on happiness like a loose dress
Over pain I'll never know
"So the peace you had," she said,
"I must confess, I'm glad to see it go."
We're two white roses lying frozen just outside his door
I've made you so happy and so sad,
But which should I be more sorry for?
Come kiss my face goodbye,
that space below my eye and above my cheek
Cause I'm faint and fading fast, I see a darkness
And I shall be released.
I'll pass like a fever from this body,
And softly slip into his hands
I tried to love you and I failed,
But I have another plan.
How long, My Lord, how long to sing this song?
And my Lord, how muchmore of this pretending to be strong?
When she stands before your throne
Dressed in beauty not her own
All soft and small, you'll hear her call