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. |