Job 41

VIN(i) 1 Can you draw out the leviathan with a fishhook, Or hold down his tongue with a line? 2 Can you put a reed rope into his nose, or pierce his jaw with a thorn? 3 Would he make many supplications to you, Or speak to you with tender words? 4 Will he make an agreement with you, so that you may take him as a servant for ever? 5 Will you play with it as with birds and put it on a leash for your girls? 6 Will traders barter for him? Will they part him among the merchants? 7 Can you fill his skin with harpoons? or his head with fish spears? 8 Lay your hand on him, and you'll remember the struggle. You'll never do that again! 9 Behold, one's hope is proved a lie; Even at the sight of him one is hurled down. 10 "No one is as fierce that he would dare stir him up. Who then is able to stand against me? 11 "Who has preceded me that I should pay him? Everything under heaven is mine. 12 I will not keep silence concerning his limbs, nor his mighty strength, nor his graceful frame. 13 Who can strip off his outer armor? Who can approach him with a bridle? 14 Who can open the doors of his face? round about his teeth is terror 15 Its back has scales of shields; it is shut up closely as with a seal. 16 One is so near to another, that no air can come between them. 17 They are joined one to another; they cling together and cannot be separated. 18 "His snorting releases flashes of light; his eyes are like the rays of the dawn. 19 Torches go from its mouth; sparks of fire shoot out. 20 Smoke billows from his nostrils; like a boiling pot or burning reeds. 21 His breath kindles coals, and a flame goes forth from his mouth. 22 "Strength abides in its neck, and dismay dances before it. 23 "The folds of its flesh cling together; it is firmly cast and immovable. 24 "Its heart is as hard as stone, as hard as the lower millstone. 25 When he raises himself up, the mighty are afraid. They retreat before his thrashing. 26 The sword of him that reaches him cannot avail: neither the spear, the dart, nor the javelin. 27 He regards 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 It makes the deep boil like a cooking pot; it makes the sea like a pot of ointment. 32 Behind it, it leaves a glistening wake; one would think that the deep has gray hair. 33 "On the ground it has no equal— a creature without fear. 34 It observes all the lofty; it is king over all that are proud."