Iyoḇ (Job) 41
1“Would you draw out Liwiathan with a hook, or snare his tongue with a line which you lower?
2Would you put a cord through his nose, or pierce his jaw with a hook?
3Would he keep on pleading with you? Would he speak softly to you?
4Would he make a covenant with you to be taken as a servant forever?
5Would you play with him as with a bird? Or leash him for your young girls?
6Would trading partners bargain over him? Would they divide him among the merchants?
7Fill his skin with harpoons? Or his head with fishing spears?
8Put your hand on him – think of the struggle! Do not do it again!
9See, any expectation of him is disappointed – he is laid low even at the sight of him!
10No one is so foolhardy to wake him up. Who then is able to stand against Me?
11Who has given to Me first, that I should repay him – under all the heavens that is Mine?
12I would not keep silent concerning his limbs, or his mighty power, or his fair frame.
13Who shall take off the surface of his skin? Who approaches him with a double bridle?
14Who shall open the doors of his face, with his frightening teeth all around?
15Rows of scales are his pride – closed up, a binding seal.
16One to the other they fit closely, not even a breath enters between them.
17They are joined one to another, they stick together and are not separated.
18His sneezings flash forth light, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.
19Out of his mouth go firebrands – sparks of fire shoot out.
20Out of his nostrils comes smoke, like a boiling pot or kettle.
21His breath sets coals on fire, and a flame goes out of his mouth.
22Strength dwells in his neck, and fear leaps before him.
23The folds of his flesh cleave together. They are firm on him, immovable.
24His heart is as hard as stone, even as hard as the lower millstone.
25When he raises himself up, the mighty are afraid. Because of his crashings they are bewildered.
26No sword that reaches him does prevail, neither spear, dart, or lance.
27He reckons iron as straw, bronze as rotten wood.
28The arrow does not make him flee, sling-stones become like stubble to him.
29Clubs are reckoned as straw, he laughs at the rattle of a lance.
30His undersides are like sharp potsherds. He sprawls on the mud like a threshing-sledge.
31He makes the deep boil like a pot, he makes the sea like a pot of ointment.
32He leaves a shining path behind him. One would think the deep to be grey-haired.
33No one on earth is like him – one made without fear.
34He sees all that is haughty. He is sovereign over all the sons of pride.”

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