9 

All hopes of seizing him are vain;

the very sight of him dismays.

10 

No one is bold enough to stir him up;

what man could face him?

11 

Who could attack him with success?

None, none beneath the sky.

12 

No hunter would survive to boast

and brag of his exploits and his fine arms.

41 

Can you pull out the crocodile with a hook,

or tie his tongue down with a string,

2 

or run a cord right through his gills,

or carry him with a gaff between his jaws?

3 

Will he make many a prayer to you?

Will he speak softly to you?

4 

Will he come to terms with you,

always to be at your service?

5 

Will you play with him like a pet bird,

or cage him to amuse your maidens?

6 

Will fishermen make a meal of him?

Will traders cut him up?

7 

Can you plant harpoons in his skin,

or pierce the head of him with spears?

8 

Just lay a hand on him!--just once!--

you will not forget the fray!

13 

Who can strip him of his hide?

Who can pierce his armoured scales?

14 

Who can force open his jaws?

His teeth are a terror!

15 

His back is row on row of shields,

sealed close and tight,

16 

one scale so near another

that no air can pass between,

17 

welded each to each,

clasped till they cannot be parted.

18 

The light plays on his snorting snout;

his eyes flash like the morning rays;

19 

flames issue from his mouth,

and sparks fly out;

20 

steam pours out of his nostrils,

as from a seething, boiling pot;

21 

his breath would kindle coals,

with the fire from his mouth.

22 

Strength is seated in his neck--

all creatures twitch in terror at him.

23 

Firm are the flakes of his flesh;

24 

his heart is stout as a mill- 24 stone.

25 

When he comes up, strong men are terrified,

scared by the swirl in the water;

26 

no sword avails against him,

no spear, no dart, no shaft;

27 

he treats a harpoon like a straw,

a bronze lance is like rotten wood;

28 

no arrow makes him fly,

stones from a sling to him are merely stubble,

29 

bludgeons are mere bulrushes,

and whizzing javelins he derides.

30 

His lair is the sharp rocks,

he rests his loins upon the mud.

31 

He makes the water boil and foam,

churning the deep like unguents in a pot;

32 

he leaves a shining furrow in his wake--

one would think the deep was hoary!

33 

Nowhere on earth is there the like of him,

a creature born to know no fear;

34 

wild animals are all in fear of him,

the monarch of proud creatures.]]