1 D ost thou draw leviathan with an angle? And with a rope thou lettest down -- his tongue?

2 D ost thou put a reed in his nose? And with a thorn pierce his jaw?

3 D oth he multiply unto thee supplications? Doth he speak unto thee tender things?

4 D oth he make a covenant with thee? Dost thou take him for a servant age-during?

5 D ost 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 D ost thou fill with barbed irons his skin? And with fish-spears his head?

8 P lace on him thy hand, Remember the battle -- do not add!

9 L o, the hope of him is found a liar, Also at his appearance is not one cast down?

10 N one so fierce that he doth awake him, And who he before Me stationeth himself?

11 W ho hath brought before Me and I repay? Under the whole heavens it mine.

12 I do not keep silent concerning his parts, And the matter of might, And the grace of his arrangement.

13 W ho hath uncovered the face of his clothing? Within his double bridle who doth enter?

14 T he doors of his face who hath opened? Round about his teeth terrible.

15 A pride -- strong ones of shields, Shut up -- a close seal.

16 O ne unto another they draw nigh, And air doth not enter between them.

17 O ne unto another they adhere, They stick together and are not separated.

18 H is sneezings cause light to shine, And his eyes as the eyelids of the dawn.

19 O ut of his mouth do flames go, sparks of fire escape.

20 O ut of his nostrils goeth forth smoke, As a blown pot and reeds.

21 H is breath setteth coals on fire, And a flame from his mouth goeth forth.

22 I n his neck lodge doth strength, And before him doth grief exult.

23 T he flakes of his flesh have adhered -- Firm upon him -- it is not moved.

24 H is heart firm as a stone, Yea, firm as the lower piece.

25 F rom his rising are the mighty afraid, From breakings they keep themselves free.

26 T he sword of his overtaker standeth not, Spear -- dart -- and lance.

27 H e reckoneth iron as straw, brass as rotten wood.

28 T he son of the bow doth not cause him to flee, Turned by him into stubble are stones of the sling.

29 A s stubble have darts been reckoned, And he laugheth at the shaking of a javelin.

30 U nder him sharp points of clay, He spreadeth gold on the mire.

31 H e causeth to boil as a pot the deep, The sea he maketh as a pot of ointment.

32 A fter him he causeth a path to shine, One thinketh the deep to be hoary.

33 T here is not on the earth his like, That is made without terror.

34 E very high thing he doth see, He king over all sons of pride.