Job 41

¹ Dost thou draw leviathan with an angle? And with a rope thou lettest down — his tongue?

² Dost thou put a reed in his nose? And with a thorn pierce his jaw?

³ Doth he multiply unto thee supplications? Doth he speak unto thee tender things?

⁴ Doth he make a covenant with thee? Dost thou take him for a servant age-during?

⁵ Dost thou play with him as a bird? And dost thou bind him for thy damsels?

⁶ (Feast upon him do companions, They divide him among the merchants!)

⁷ Dost thou fill with barbed irons his skin? And with fish-spears his head?

⁸ Place on him thy hand, Remember the battle — do not add!

⁹ Lo, the hope of him is found a liar, Also at his appearance is not one cast down?

¹⁰ None so fierce that he doth awake him, And who [is] he before Me stationeth himself?

¹¹ Who hath brought before Me and I repay? Under the whole heavens it [is] mine.

¹² I do not keep silent concerning his parts, And the matter of might, And the grace of his arrangement.

¹³ Who hath uncovered the face of his clothing? Within his double bridle who doth enter?

¹⁴ The doors of his face who hath opened? Round about his teeth [are] terrible.

¹⁵ A pride — strong ones of shields, Shut up — a close seal.

¹⁶ One unto another they draw nigh, And air doth not enter between them.

¹⁷ One unto another they adhere, They stick together and are not separated.

¹⁸ His sneezings cause light to shine, And his eyes [are] as the eyelids of the dawn.

¹⁹ Out of his mouth do flames go, sparks of fire escape.

²⁰ Out of his nostrils goeth forth smoke, As a blown pot and reeds.

²¹ His breath setteth coals on fire, And a flame from his mouth goeth forth.

²² In his neck lodge doth strength, And before him doth grief exult.

²³ The flakes of his flesh have adhered — Firm upon him — it is not moved.

²⁴ His heart [is] firm as a stone, Yea, firm as the lower piece.

²⁵ From his rising are the mighty afraid, From breakings they keep themselves free.

²⁶ The sword of his overtaker standeth not, Spear — dart — and lance.

²⁷ He reckoneth iron as straw, brass as rotten wood.

²⁸ The son of the bow doth not cause him to flee, Turned by him into stubble are stones of the sling.

²⁹ As stubble have darts been reckoned, And he laugheth at the shaking of a javelin.

³⁰ Under him [are] sharp points of clay, He spreadeth gold on the mire.

³¹ He causeth to boil as a pot the deep, The sea he maketh as a pot of ointment.

³² After him he causeth a path to shine, One thinketh the deep to be hoary.

³³ There is not on the earth his like, That is made without terror.

³⁴ Every high thing he doth see, He [is] king over all sons of pride.