Jó 41

¹ Can you draw out leviathan with a fishhook? Or press down his tongue with a cord?

² Can you put a rope into his nose? Or pierce his jaw through with a hook?

³ Will he make many supplications to you? Or will he speak soft words to you?

⁴ Will he make a covenant with you, That you should take him for a slave forever?

⁵ Will you play with him as with a bird? Or will you bind him for your maidens?

⁶ Will the bands [of fishermen] make traffic of him? Will they part him among the merchants?

⁷ Can you fill his skin with barbed irons, Or his head with fish-spears?

⁸ Lay your hand on him; Remember the battle, and do so no more.

⁹ Look, the hope of him is in vain: Will not one be overcome even at the sight of him?

¹⁰ None is so fierce that he dare stir him up; Who then is he that can stand before me?

¹¹ Who has first given to me, that I should repay him? [Whatever is] under the whole heaven is mine.

¹² I will not keep silent concerning his limbs, Nor his mighty strength, nor his goodly frame.

¹³ Who can strip off his outer garment? Who will come inside his jaws?

¹⁴ Who can open the doors of his face? Around his teeth is terror.

¹⁵ [His] strong scales are [his] back, Shut up together [as with] a close seal.

¹⁶ One is so near to another, That no air can come between them.

¹⁷ They are stuck [as close as] a man to his brother; They join together, so that they can't be sundered.

¹⁸ His sneezings flash forth light, And his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

¹⁹ Out of his mouth go burning torches, And sparks of fire leap forth.

²⁰ Out of his nostrils a smoke goes, As of a boiling pot and [burning] rushes.

²¹ His breath kindles coals, And a flame goes forth from his mouth.

²² In his neck resides strength, And terror dances before him.

²³ The flakes of his flesh are stuck: They are firm on him; they can't be moved.

²⁴ His heart is as firm as a stone; Yes, firm as the nether millstone.

²⁵ When he raises himself up, the gods are afraid: By reason of consternation they are beside themselves.

²⁶ If one lays at him with the sword, it can't avail; Nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft.

²⁷ He counts iron as straw, [And] bronze as rotten wood.

²⁸ The arrow can't make him flee: Sling-stones are turned with him into stubble.

²⁹ Clubs are counted as stubble: He laughs at the rushing of the javelin.

³⁰ His underparts are [like] sharp potsherds: He spreads [as it were] a threshing-wain on the mire.

³¹ He makes the deep to boil like a pot: He makes the sea like a pot of ointment.

³² He makes a path to shine after him; One would think the deep to be gray-headed.

³³ On earth there is not his like, That is made without fear.

³⁴ He beholds everything that is high: He is king over all the sons of pride.