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.