1 Så oförvägen är ingen, att han törs reta denne. Vem vågar då sätta sig upp mot mig själv?

2 Vem har först givit mig något, som jag alltså bör betala igen? Mitt är ju allt vad som finnes under himmelen.

3 Jag vill ej höra upp att tala om hans lemmar, om huru väldig han är, och huru härligt han är danad.

4 Vem mäktar rycka av honom hans pansar? Vem vågar sig in mellan hans käkars par?

5 Hans gaps dörrar, vem vill öppna dem? Runtom hans tänder bor ju förskräckelse.

6 Stolta sitta på honom sköldarnas rader; hopslutna äro de med fast försegling.

7 Tätt fogar sig den ena intill den andra, icke en vindfläkt tränger in mellan dem.

8 Var och en håller ihop med den nästa, de gripa in i varandra och skiljas ej åt.

9 När han fnyser, strålar det av ljus; hans blickar äro såsom morgonrodnadens ögonbryn.

10 Bloss fara ut ur hans gap, eldgnistor springa fram därur.

11 Från hans näsborrar utgår rök såsom ur en sjudande panna på bränslet.

12 Hans andedräkt framgnistrar eldkol, och lågor bryta fram ur hans gap.

13 På hans hals har kraften sin boning, och framför honom stapplar försagdhet.

14 Själva det veka på hans buk är ett stadigt fogverk, det sitter orubbligt, såsom gjutet på honom.

15 Hans hjärta är fast såsom sten, fast såsom bottenstenen i kvarnen.

16 När han reser sig, bäva hjältar, av ångest mista de all sans.

17 Angripes han med ett svärd, så håller det ej stånd, ej heller spjut eller pil eller pansar.

18 Han aktar järn såsom halm och koppar såsom murket trä.

19 Bågskott skrämma honom ej bort, slungstenar förvandlas för honom till strå;

20 ja, stridsklubbor aktar han såsom strå, han ler åt rasslet av lansar.

21 På sin buk bär han skarpa eggar, spår såsom av en tröskvagn ristar han i dyn.

22 Han gör djupet sjudande som en gryta, likt en salvokokares kittel förvandlar han vattnet.

23 Bakom honom strålar vägen av ljus, djupet synes bära silverhår.

24 Ja, på jorden finnes intet som är honom likt, otillgänglig för fruktan skapades han.

25 På allt vad högt är ser han med förakt, konung är han över alla stolta vilddjur.

1 Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down? 2 Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn? 3 Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee? 4 Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever? 5 Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens? 6 Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants? 7 Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears? 8 Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more. 9 Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him? 10 None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?

11 Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine. 12 I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion. 13 Who can discover the face of his garment? or who can come to him with his double bridle? 14 Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about. 15 His scales are his pride, 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 joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be sundered. 18 By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning. 19 Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out. 20 Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron. 21 His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth. 22 In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him. 23 The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved. 24 His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone. 25 When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves. 26 The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon. 27 He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood. 28 The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble. 29 Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear. 30 Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire. 31 He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment. 32 He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary. 33 Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear. 34 He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.