[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."