| Chapter 41 |
1 | Dost thou draw leviathan with an angle? And with a rope thou lettest down -- his tongue?
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2 | Dost thou put a reed in his nose? And with a thorn pierce his jaw?
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3 | Doth he multiply unto thee supplications? Doth he speak unto thee tender things?
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4 | Doth he make a covenant with thee? Dost thou take him for a servant age-during?
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5 | Dost thou play with him as a bird? And dost thou bind him for thy damsels?
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6 | (Feast upon him do companions, They divide him among the merchants!)
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7 | Dost thou fill with barbed irons his skin? And with fish-spears his head?
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8 | Place on him thy hand, Remember the battle -- do not add!
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9 | Lo, the hope of him is found a liar, Also at his appearance is not one cast down?
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10 | None so fierce that he doth awake him, And who [is] he before Me stationeth himself?
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11 | Who hath brought before Me and I repay? Under the whole heavens it [is] mine.
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12 | I do not keep silent concerning his parts, And the matter of might, And the grace of his arrangement.
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13 | Who hath uncovered the face of his clothing? Within his double bridle who doth enter?
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14 | The doors of his face who hath opened? Round about his teeth [are] terrible.
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15 | A pride -- strong ones of shields, Shut up -- a close seal.
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16 | One unto another they draw nigh, And air doth not enter between them.
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17 | One unto another they adhere, They stick together and are not separated.
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18 | His sneezings cause light to shine, And his eyes [are] as the eyelids of the dawn.
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19 | Out of his mouth do flames go, sparks of fire escape.
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20 | Out of his nostrils goeth forth smoke, As a blown pot and reeds.
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21 | His breath setteth coals on fire, And a flame from his mouth goeth forth.
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22 | In his neck lodge doth strength, And before him doth grief exult.
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23 | The flakes of his flesh have adhered -- Firm upon him -- it is not moved.
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24 | His heart [is] firm as a stone, Yea, firm as the lower piece.
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25 | From his rising are the mighty afraid, From breakings they keep themselves free.
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26 | The sword of his overtaker standeth not, Spear -- dart -- and lance.
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27 | He reckoneth iron as straw, brass as rotten wood.
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28 | The son of the bow doth not cause him to flee, Turned by him into stubble are stones of the sling.
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29 | As stubble have darts been reckoned, And he laugheth at the shaking of a javelin.
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30 | Under him [are] sharp points of clay, He spreadeth gold on the mire.
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31 | He causeth to boil as a pot the deep, The sea he maketh as a pot of ointment.
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32 | After him he causeth a path to shine, One thinketh the deep to be hoary.
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33 | There is not on the earth his like, That is made without terror.
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34 | Every high thing he doth see, He [is] king over all sons of pride.
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