যোব 41
“Can you pull in Leviathan with a hook or tie down his tongue with a rope?
Can you put a cord through his nose or pierce his jaw with a hook?
Will he beg you for mercy or speak to you softly?
Will he make a covenant with you to take him as a slave for life?
5 ৫ চৰাই এটিৰ লগত ওমলাৰ দৰে তুমি তাৰ লগতো উমলিবা নে? বা তোমাৰ দাসীবোৰৰ বাবে তুমি তাক বান্ধি ৰাখিবা নে?
Can you pet him like a bird or put him on a leash for your maidens?
Will traders barter for him or divide him among the merchants?
Can you fill his hide with harpoons or his head with fishing spears?
If you lay a hand on him, you will remember the battle and never repeat it!
Surely hope of overcoming him is false. Is not the sight of him overwhelming?
No one is so fierce as to rouse Leviathan. Then who is able to stand against Me?
Who has given to Me that I should repay him? Everything under heaven is Mine.
12 ১২ মই লিবিথিয়ানৰ ভৰিৰ বিষয়ে নকোৱাকৈ মনে মনে নাথাকোঁ, নাইবা তাৰ মহাবল আৰু গাৰ সুন্দৰ গঠনৰ বিষয়ে মই নোকোৱাকৈ নাথাকোঁ।
I cannot keep silent about his limbs, his power and graceful form.
Who can strip off his outer coat? Who can approach him with a bridle?
Who can open his jaws, ringed by his fearsome teeth?
His rows of scales are his pride, tightly sealed together.
One scale is so near to another that no air can pass between them.
They are joined to one another; they clasp and cannot be separated.
His snorting flashes with light, and his eyes are like the rays of dawn.
Firebrands stream from his mouth; fiery sparks shoot forth!
Smoke billows from his nostrils as from a boiling pot over burning reeds.
His breath sets coals ablaze, and flames pour from his mouth.
Strength resides in his neck, and dismay leaps before him.
The folds of his flesh are tightly joined; they are firm and immovable.
His chest is as hard as a rock, as hard as a lower millstone!
When Leviathan rises up, the mighty are terrified; they withdraw before his thrashing.
26 ২৬ যদি কোনোবাই তৰোৱালেৰে তাক আঘাত কৰে, তেতিয়াও তাৰ একো নহব, বা তালৈ যাঠী, কাঁড়, বা শেল মাৰিলে সকলো মিছা হব।
The sword that reaches him has no effect, nor does the spear or dart or arrow.
He regards iron as straw and bronze as rotten wood.
No arrow can make him flee; slingstones become like chaff to him.
A club is regarded as straw, and he laughs at the sound of the lance.
His undersides are jagged potsherds, spreading out the mud like a threshing sledge.
He makes the depths seethe like a cauldron; he makes the sea like a jar of ointment.
He leaves a glistening wake behind him; one would think the deep had white hair!
Nothing on earth is his equal— a creature devoid of fear!
He looks down on all the haughty; he is king over all the proud.”
