Job 41
1 “Do you draw leviathan with a hook? And do you let down his tongue with a rope?
Kan du trække Krokodillen op med Krog og binde dens Tunge med Snøre?
2 Do you put a reed in his nose? And pierce his jaw with a thorn?
Kan du mon stikke et Siv i dens Snude, bore en Krog igennem dens Kæber?
3 Does he multiply supplications to you? Does he speak tender things to you?
Mon den vil trygle dig længe og give dig gode Ord?
4 Does he make a covenant with you? Do you take him for a perpetual servant?
Mon den vil indgå en Pagt med dig, så du får den til Træl for evigt?
5 Do you play with him as a bird? And do you bind him for your girls?
Han du mon lege med den som en Fugl og tøjre den for dine Pigebørn?
6 (Companions feast on him, They divide him among the merchants!)
Falbyder Fiskerlauget den og stykker den ud mellem Sælgerne?
7 Do you fill his skin with barbed irons? And his head with fish-spears?
Mon du kan spække dens Hud med Kroge og med Harpuner dens Hoved?
8 Place your hand on him, Remember the battle—do not add!
Læg dog engang din Hånd på den! Du vil huske den Kamp og gør det ej mer.
9 Behold, the hope of him is found a liar, Also, is one not cast down at his appearance?
Det Håb vilde blive til Skamme, alene ved Synet lå du der.
10 None so fierce that he awakes him, And who [is] he [who] stations himself before Me?
Ingen drister sig til at tirre den, hvem holder Stand imod den?
11 Who has brought before Me and I repay? Under the whole heavens it [is] Mine.
Hvem møder den og slipper fra det hvem under hele Himlen?
12 I do not keep silent concerning his parts, And the matter of might, And the grace of his arrangement.
Jeg tier ej om dens Lemmer, hvor stærk den er, hvor smukt den er skabt.
13 Who has uncovered the face of his clothing? Who enters within his double bridle?
Hvem har trukket dens Klædning af, trængt ind i dens dobbelte Panser?
14 Who has opened the doors of his face? Around his teeth [are] terrible.
Hvem har åbnet dens Ansigts Døre? Rundt om dens Tænder er Rædsel.
15 A pride—strong ones of shields, Shut up—a close seal.
Dens Ryg er Reder af Skjolde, dens Bryst er et Segl af Sten;
16 They draw near to one another, And air does not enter between them.
de sidder tæt ved hverandre, Luft kommer ikke ind derimellem;
17 They adhere to one another, They stick together and are not separated.
de hænger fast ved hverandre, uadskilleligt griber de ind i hverandre.
18 His sneezings cause light to shine, And his eyes [are] as the eyelids of the dawn.
Dens Nysen fremkalder strålende Lys, som Morgenrødens Øjenlåg er dens Øjne.
19 Flames go out of his mouth, sparks of fire escape.
Ud af dens Gab farer Fakler, Ildgnister spruder der frem.
20 Smoke goes forth out of his nostrils, As a blown pot and reeds.
Em står ud af dens Næsebor som af en ophedet, kogende Kedel.
21 His breath sets coals on fire, And a flame goes forth from his mouth.
Dens Ånde tænder som glødende Kul, Luer står ud af dens Gab.
22 Strength lodges in his neck, And grief exults before him.
Styrken bor på dens Hals, og Angsten hopper foran den.
23 The flakes of his flesh have adhered—Firm on him—it is not moved.
Tæt sidder Kødets Knuder, som støbt til Kroppen; de rokkes ikke;
24 His heart [is] firm as a stone, Indeed, firm as the lower piece.
fast som Sten er dens Hjerte støbt, fast som den nederste Møllesten.
25 The mighty are afraid at his rising, From his breakings they keep themselves free.
Når den rejser sig, gyser Helte, fra Sans og Samling går de af Skræk.
26 The sword of his overtaker does not stand, Spear, dart, and breastplate.
Angriberens Sværd holder ikke Stand, ej Kastevåben, Spyd eller Pil.
27 He reckons iron as straw, bronze as rotten wood.
Jern regner den kun for Halm og Kobber for trøsket Træ;
28 The son of the bow does not cause him to flee, Stones of the sling are turned into stubble by him.
Buens Søn slår den ikke på Flugt, Slyngens Sten bliver Strå for den,
29 Darts have been reckoned as stubble, And he laughs at the shaking of a javelin.
Stridskøllen regnes for Rør, den ler ad det svirrende Spyd.
30 Sharp points of clay [are] under him, He spreads gold on the mire.
På Bugen er der skarpe Rande, dens Spor i Dyndet er som Tærskeslædens;
31 He causes the deep to boil as a pot, He makes the sea as a pot of ointment.
Dybet får den i Kog som en Gryde, en Salvekedel gør den af Floden;
32 He causes a path to shine after him, One thinks the deep to be hoary.
bag den er der en lysende Sti, Dybet synes som Sølverhår.
33 There is not on the earth his like, That is made without terror.
Dens Lige findes ikke på Jord, den er skabt til ikke at frygte.
34 He sees every high thing, He [is] king over all sons of pride.”
Alt, hvad højt er, ræddes for den, den er Konge over alle stolte Dyr.
