Job 41

Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?

Kan du trække Krokodillen op med Krog og binde dens Tunge med Snøre?

Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?

Kan du mon stikke et Siv i dens Snude, bore en Krog igennem dens Kæber?

Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee?

Mon den vil trygle dig længe og give dig gode Ord?

Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?

Mon den vil indgå en Pagt med dig, så du får den til Træl for evigt?

Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?

Han du mon lege med den som en Fugl og tøjre den for dine Pigebørn?

Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants?

Falbyder Fiskerlauget den og stykker den ud mellem Sælgerne?

Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears?

Mon du kan spække dens Hud med Kroge og med Harpuner dens Hoved?

Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.

Læg dog engang din Hånd på den! Du vil huske den Kamp og gør det ej mer.

Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?

Det Håb vilde blive til Skamme, alene ved Synet lå du der.

None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?

Ingen drister sig til at tirre den, hvem holder Stand imod den?

Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.

Hvem møder den og slipper fra det hvem under hele Himlen?

I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion.

Jeg tier ej om dens Lemmer, hvor stærk den er, hvor smukt den er skabt.

Who can discover the face of his garment? or who can come to him with his double bridle?

Hvem har trukket dens Klædning af, trængt ind i dens dobbelte Panser?

Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about.

Hvem har åbnet dens Ansigts Døre? Rundt om dens Tænder er Rædsel.

His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.

Dens Ryg er Reder af Skjolde, dens Bryst er et Segl af Sten;

One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.

de sidder tæt ved hverandre, Luft kommer ikke ind derimellem;

They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be sundered.

de hænger fast ved hverandre, uadskilleligt griber de ind i hverandre.

By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

Dens Nysen fremkalder strålende Lys, som Morgenrødens Øjenlåg er dens Øjne.

Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.

Ud af dens Gab farer Fakler, Ildgnister spruder der frem.

Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.

Em står ud af dens Næsebor som af en ophedet, kogende Kedel.

His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.

Dens Ånde tænder som glødende Kul, Luer står ud af dens Gab.

In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him.

Styrken bor på dens Hals, og Angsten hopper foran den.

The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved.

Tæt sidder Kødets Knuder, som støbt til Kroppen; de rokkes ikke;

His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone.

fast som Sten er dens Hjerte støbt, fast som den nederste Møllesten.

When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves.

Når den rejser sig, gyser Helte, fra Sans og Samling går de af Skræk.

The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.

Angriberens Sværd holder ikke Stand, ej Kastevåben, Spyd eller Pil.

He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.

Jern regner den kun for Halm og Kobber for trøsket Træ;

The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble.

Buens Søn slår den ikke på Flugt, Slyngens Sten bliver Strå for den,

Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.

Stridskøllen regnes for Rør, den ler ad det svirrende Spyd.

Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire.

På Bugen er der skarpe Rande, dens Spor i Dyndet er som Tærskeslædens;

He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.

Dybet får den i Kog som en Gryde, en Salvekedel gør den af Floden;

He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary.

bag den er der en lysende Sti, Dybet synes som Sølverhår.

Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear.

Dens Lige findes ikke på Jord, den er skabt til ikke at frygte.

He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.

Alt, hvad højt er, ræddes for den, den er Konge over alle stolte Dyr.