41 “Can you draw out Leviathan^[a] with a fish hook,
    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 petitions 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 servant forever?
⁵ Will you play with him as with a bird?
    Or will you bind him for your girls?
⁶ Will traders barter for 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 Behold, the hope of him is in vain.
    Won’t one be cast down even at the sight of him?

¹⁰ None is so fierce that he dare stir him up.
    Who then is he who can stand before me?
¹¹ Who has first given to me, that I should repay him?
    Everything under the heavens is mine.

¹² “I will not keep silence concerning his limbs,
    nor his mighty strength, nor his goodly frame.
¹³ Who can strip off his outer garment?
    Who will come within his jaws?
¹⁴ Who can open the doors of his face?
    Around his teeth is terror.
¹⁵ Strong scales are his pride,
    shut up together with a close seal.

¹⁶ One is so near to another,
    that no air can come between them.
¹⁷ They are joined to one another.
    They stick together, so that they can’t be pulled apart.
¹⁸ His sneezing flashes out light.
    His eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.
¹⁹ Out of his mouth go burning torches.
    Sparks of fire leap out.
²⁰ Out of his nostrils a smoke goes,
    as of a boiling pot over a fire of reeds.
²¹ His breath kindles coals.
    A flame goes out of his mouth.
²² There is strength in his neck.
    Terror dances before him.
²³ The flakes of his flesh are joined together.
    They are firm on him.
    They can’t be moved.
²⁴ His heart is as firm as a stone,
    yes, firm as the lower millstone.
²⁵ When he raises himself up, the mighty are afraid.
    They retreat before his thrashing.
²⁶ If one attacks him with the sword, it can’t prevail;
    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 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 He makes the deep to boil like a pot.
    He makes the sea like a pot of ointment.
³² He makes a path shine after him.
    One would think the deep had white hair.
³³ On earth there is not his equal,
    that is made without fear.
³⁴ He sees everything that is high.
    He is king over all the sons of pride.”