41
1 “Can
you draw out Leviathan
with a fish hook,
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 petitions
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 servant
forever?
5 Will
you play with him
as with a bird?
Or will you bind
him for your girls?
6 Will traders
barter for 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 Behold,
the hope of him
is in vain.
Won’t one be cast down
even at the sight
of him?
10 None is so
fierce that he dare stir him up.
Who then is he who can
stand before me?
11 Who
has first given to
me, that I
should repay him?
Everything under the heavens
is mine.
12 “I
will not keep silence concerning
his limbs,
nor his mighty strength, nor
his goodly frame.
13 Who can
strip off his outer garment?
Who will
come within his
jaws?
14 Who can
open the doors of
his face?
Around his teeth
is terror.
15 Strong scales are
his pride,
shut up together
with a close seal.
16 One is
so near to another,
that no air can come between them.
17 They are
joined to one another.
They stick together, so that
they can’t be pulled apart.
18 His sneezing
flashes out light.
His eyes are like
the eyelids of
the morning.
19 Out
of his mouth go burning torches.
Sparks of fire leap out.
20 Out
of his nostrils
a smoke goes,
as of a boiling
pot over a fire
of reeds.
21 His breath
kindles coals.
A flame goes out
of his mouth.
22 There
is strength in
his neck.
Terror dances before him.
23 The flakes
of his flesh are joined
together.
They are firm on
him.
They can’t
be moved.
24 His heart
is as firm as
a stone,
yes, firm as the lower millstone.
25 When
he raises himself
up, the mighty
are afraid.
They retreat before
his thrashing.
26 If
one attacks him
with the sword, it
can’t prevail;
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 like chaff to him.
29 Clubs are counted as stubble.
He laughs at the rushing of the javelin.
30 His undersides are like sharp
potsherds,
leaving a trail in the mud like
a threshing sledge.
31 He makes the deep to boil
like a pot.
He makes the sea like a pot of ointment.
32 He makes
a path shine after him.
One would think the deep had white hair.
33 On earth there is not his
equal,
that is made without fear.
34 He sees everything that is
high.
He is king over all the sons of pride.”