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¹ Can you draw out the leviathan with a hook, or hold down his tongue with a cord?² Can you put a reed rope into his nose, or pierce his jaw with a thorn?³ Will he multiply pleas for help to you; or will he speak soft words to you?⁴ Will he cut a covenant with you; will you take him for a slave forever?⁵ Will you play with him as with a bird; or will you tie him up for your maidens?⁶ Shall your partners bargain over him; shall they divide him among the merchants?⁷ Can you fill his skin with barbs, or his head with fishing spears?⁸ Put your hand on him; remember the battle; you will not do it again!⁹ Behold, his hope has been made false; will he not be cast down at the sight of him?¹⁰ None is so fierce as to dare to stir him up. Who then is able to stand before Me?

¹¹ Who has gone before Me that I should repay? All under the heavens, it is Mine!¹² I will not keep silent as to his limbs, or the matter of his powers, or the grace of his frame.¹³ Who can take off the face of his covering; who can come with his double bridle?¹⁴ Who can pry open the doors of his face? Terror is all around his teeth.¹⁵ The rows of shields are his pride, shut up with a tight seal;¹⁶ one is so near to another that no air can come between them;¹⁷ they are joined to one another; they clasp each other, so that they cannot be separated.¹⁸ His sneezings flash forth light, and his eyes are as the eyelids of the dawn.¹⁹ Out of his mouth go burning torches; sparks of fire fly out.²⁰ Smoke goes out of his nostrils like a boiling pot fired by reeds.²¹ His breath kindles coals and the flame goes out from his mouth.²² Strength abides in his neck and terror dances before him.²³ The folds of flesh cleave together, cast firm on him; he cannot be moved.²⁴ His heart is cast hard as a stone, even cast hard as a piece of a lower millstone .²⁵ The mighty are afraid from his arising; from the crashings they miss the way.²⁶ The sword overtakes him, but will not hold firm, nor the spear, the dart, or the javelin.²⁷ He counts iron as straw, bronze as rotten wood.²⁸ A son of a bow cannot make him flee; slingstones are turned to stubble by him;²⁹ darts are counted as stubble; he laughs at the shaking of a javelin.³⁰ Points of potsherds are under him; he spreads sharp marks on the mire.³¹ He makes the deep 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 grayheaded.³³ There is nothing like him on earth, one made without fear.³⁴ He beholds all high things ; he is king over all the sons of pride.