Is it possible for Leviathan to be pulled out with a fish-hook, or for a hook to be put through the bone of his mouth?

Who ever went against me, and got the better of me? There is no one under heaven!

His sneezings give out flames, and his eyes are like the eyes of the dawn.

Will you put a cord into his nose, or take him away with a cord round his tongue?

His back is made of lines of plates, joined tight together, one against the other, like a stamp.

His breath puts fire to coals, and a flame goes out of his mouth.

Everything which is high goes in fear of him; he is king over all the sons of pride.

His heart is as strong as a stone, hard as the lower crushing-stone.

When he gets ready for the fight, the strong are overcome with fear.

Will you put sharp-pointed irons into his skin, or fish-spears into his head?

The sword may come near him but is not able to go through him; the spear, or the arrow, or the sharp-pointed iron.

He is so cruel that no one is ready to go against him. Who then is able to keep his place before me?

Smoke comes out of his nose, like a pot boiling on the fire.

The plates of his flesh are joined together, fixed, and not to be moved.

I will not keep quiet about the parts of his body, or about his power, and the strength of his frame.

Out of his mouth go burning lights, and flames of fire are jumping up.

Will the fishermen make profit out of him? will they have him cut up for the traders?

One is so near to the other that no air may come between them.

Truly, the hope of his attacker is false; he is overcome even on seeing him!

Who has made open the doors of his face? Fear is round about his teeth.

Will he make an agreement with you, so that you may take him as a servant for ever?

Strength is in his neck, and fear goes dancing before him.

They take a grip of one another; they are joined together, so that they may not be parted.

Will you make sport with him, as with a bird? or put him in chains for your young women?

Who has ever taken off his outer skin? who may come inside his inner coat of iron?

Will he make prayers to you, or say soft words to you?

Only put your hand on him, and see what a fight you will have; you will not do it again!

On earth there is not another like him, who is made without fear.

The arrow is not able to put him to flight: stones are no more to him than dry stems.

Under him are sharp edges of broken pots: as if he was pulling a grain-crushing instrument over the wet earth.

The deep is boiling like a pot of spices, and the sea like a perfume-vessel.

A thick stick is no better than a leaf of grass, and he makes sport of the onrush of the spear.

After him his way is shining, so that the deep seems white.

Iron is to him as dry grass, and brass as soft wood.