Letras
Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook
Or press down his tongue with a cord
Can you put a rope in his nose
Or pierce his jaw with a hook
Will he make many pleas to you
Will he speak to you soft words
Will he make a covenant with you
To take him for your servant forever
Will you play with him as with a bird
Or will you put him on a leash for your girls
Will traders bargain over him
Will they divide him up among the merchants
Can you fill his skin with harpoons
Or his head with fishing spears
Lay your hands on him
Remember the battle—you will not do it again
Behold, the hope of a man is false
Is he not laid low even at the sight of him
No one is so fierce that he dares to stir him up
Who then is he that can stand before me
Who has first given to me, that I should repay him
Whatever is under the whole heaven is mine
I will not keep silence concerning his limbs
Or his mighty strength, or his goodly frame
Who can strip off his outer garment
Who would come near him with a double bridle
Who can open the doors of his face
Around his teeth is terror
His back is made of rows of shields
Shut up closely as with a seal
One is so near to another that no air can come between them
They are joined one to another
They clasp each other and cannot be separated
His sneezings flash forth light
And his eyes are like the eyelids of the dawn
Out of his mouth go flaming torches
Sparks of fire leap forth
Out of his nostrils goes smoke
As out of a seething pot or burning rushes
His breath kindles coals, and a flame comes forth from his mouth
In his neck abides strength
And terror dances before him
The folds of his flesh stick together
Firmly cast on him and immovable
His heart is hard as a stone, hard as the lower millstone
Can you fill his skin with harpoons
Or his head with fishing spears
Lay your hands on him
Remember the battle—you will not do it again
Behold, the hope of a man is false
Is he not laid low even at the sight of him
No one is so fierce that he dares to stir him up
Who then is he that can stand before me
Who has first given to me, that I should repay him
Whatever is under the whole heaven is mine
When he raises himself up the mighty are afraid
At the crashing they are beside themselves
Though the sword reaches him, it does not avail
Nor the spear, the dart, or the javelin
He counts iron as straw, and bronze as rotten wood
The arrow cannot make him flee
For him sling stones are turned to stubble
Clubs are counted as stubble
He laughs at the rattle of javelins
His underparts are like sharp potsherds
He spreads himself like a threshing sledge on the mire
He makes the deep boil like a pot
He makes the sea like a pot of ointment
Behind him he leaves a shining wake
One would think the deep to be white-haired
On earth there is not his like, a creature without fear
He sees everything that is high
He is king over all the sons of pride
Can you fill his skin with harpoons
Or his head with fishing spears
Lay your hands on him
Remember the battle—you will not do it again
Behold, the hope of a man is false
Is he not laid low even at the sight of him
No one is so fierce that he dares to stir him up
Who then is he that can stand before me
Who has first given to me, that I should repay him
Whatever is under the whole heaven is mine
Whatever is under the whole heaven is mine