### Young's Literal Translation

Job 40

## The Book of Job

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| # Chapter 41
| Dost thou draw leviathan with an angle? And with a rope thou lettest down -- his tongue?
| Dost thou put a reed in his nose? And with a thorn pierce his jaw?
| Doth he multiply unto thee supplications? Doth he speak unto thee tender things?
| Doth he make a covenant with thee? Dost thou take him for a servant age-during?
| Dost thou play with him as a bird? And dost thou bind him for thy damsels?
| (Feast upon him do companions, They divide him among the merchants!)
| Dost thou fill with barbed irons his skin? And with fish-spears his head?
| Place on him thy hand, Remember the battle -- do not add!
| Lo, the hope of him is found a liar, Also at his appearance is not one cast down?
| None so fierce that he doth awake him, And who [is] he before Me stationeth himself?
| Who hath brought before Me and I repay? Under the whole heavens it [is] mine.
| I do not keep silent concerning his parts, And the matter of might, And the grace of his arrangement.
| Who hath uncovered the face of his clothing? Within his double bridle who doth enter?
| The doors of his face who hath opened? Round about his teeth [are] terrible.
| A pride -- strong ones of shields, Shut up -- a close seal.
| One unto another they draw nigh, And air doth not enter between them.
| One unto another they adhere, They stick together and are not separated.
| His sneezings cause light to shine, And his eyes [are] as the eyelids of the dawn.
| Out of his mouth do flames go, sparks of fire escape.
| Out of his nostrils goeth forth smoke, As a blown pot and reeds.
| His breath setteth coals on fire, And a flame from his mouth goeth forth.
| In his neck lodge doth strength, And before him doth grief exult.
| The flakes of his flesh have adhered -- Firm upon him -- it is not moved.
| His heart [is] firm as a stone, Yea, firm as the lower piece.
| From his rising are the mighty afraid, From breakings they keep themselves free.
| The sword of his overtaker standeth not, Spear -- dart -- and lance.
| He reckoneth iron as straw, brass as rotten wood.
| The son of the bow doth not cause him to flee, Turned by him into stubble are stones of the sling.
| As stubble have darts been reckoned, And he laugheth at the shaking of a javelin.
| Under him [are] sharp points of clay, He spreadeth gold on the mire.
| He causeth to boil as a pot the deep, The sea he maketh as a pot of ointment.
| After him he causeth a path to shine, One thinketh the deep to be hoary.
| There is not on the earth his like, That is made without terror.
| Every high thing he doth see, He [is] king over all sons of pride.

Job 42

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