| 1 | 'Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook? 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. Will not 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 shall 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 one to another; They stick together, so that they can't be pulled apart. |
| 18 | His sneezing flashes forth light, His eyes are like the eyelids of the morning. |
| 19 | Out of his mouth go burning torches, Sparks of fire leap forth. |
| 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 forth from his mouth. |
| 22 | In his neck there is strength. 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 lay at him with the sword, it can't avail; Nor the spear, the dart, nor the pointed shaft. |
| 27 | He counts iron as straw; And brass 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 to 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.' |