Job 41
1 Canst thou draw forth the crocodile with a hook, Or press down his tongue with a cord?
Kan du trække Krokodillen op med Krog og binde dens Tunge med Snøre?
2 Canst thou put a rope into his nose, Or pierce his cheek with a hook?
Kan du mon stikke et Siv i dens Snude, bore en Krog igennem dens Kæber?
3 Will he make many entreaties to thee? Will he speak soft words to thee?
Mon den vil trygle dig længe og give dig gode Ord?
4 Will he make a covenant with thee? Canst thou take him for a servant for ever?
Mon den vil indgaa en Pagt med dig, saa du faar den til Træl for evigt?
5 Canst thou play with him, as with a bird? Or canst thou bind him for thy maidens?
Han du mon lege med den som en Fugl og tøjre den for dine Pigebørn?
6 Do men in company lay snares for him? Do they divide him among the merchants?
Falbyder Fiskerlauget den og stykker den ud mellem Sælgerne?
7 Canst thou fill his skirt with barbed irons, Or his head with fish-spears?
Mon du kan spække dens Hud med Kroge og med Harpuner dens Hoved?
8 Do but lay thy hand upon him, —Thou wilt no more think of battle!
Læg dog engang din Haand paa den! Du vil huske den Kamp og gør det ej mer.
9 Behold, his hope is vain! Is he not cast down at the very sight of him?
Det Haab vilde blive til Skamme, alene ved Synet laa du der.
10 None is so fierce that he dare stir him up; Who then is he that can stand before me?
Ingen drister sig til at tirre den, hvem holder Stand imod den?
11 Who hath done me a favor, that I must repay him? Whatever is under the whole heaven is mine.
Hvem møder den og slipper fra det hvem under hele Himlen?
12 I will not be silent concerning his limbs, And his strength, and the beauty of his armor.
Jeg tier ej om dens Lemmer, hvor stærk den er, hvor smukt den er skabt.
13 Who can uncover the surface of his garment? Who will approach his jaws?
Hvem har trukket dens Klædning af, trængt ind i dens dobbelte Panser?
14 Who will open the doors of his face? The rows of his teeth are terrible!
Hvem har aabnet dens Ansigts Døre? Rundt om dens Tænder er Rædsel.
15 His glory is his strong shields, United with each other, as with a close seal.
Dens Ryg er Reder af Skjolde, dens Bryst er et Segl af Sten;
16 They are joined one to another, So that no air can come between them.
de sidder tæt ved hverandre, Luft kommer ikke ind derimellem;
17 They cleave fast to each other, They hold together, and cannot be separated.
de hænger fast ved hverandre, uadskilleligt griber de ind i hverandre.
18 His sneezing sendeth forth light, And his eyes are like the eyelashes of the morning.
Dens Nysen fremkalder straalende Lys, som Morgenrødens Øjenlaag er dens Øjne.
19 Out of his mouth go flames, And sparks of fire leap forth.
Ud af dens Gab farer Fakler, Ildgnister spruder der frem.
20 From his nostrils issueth smoke, as from a heated pot, or caldron.
Em staar ud af dens Næsebor som af en ophedet, kogende Kedel.
21 His breath kindleth coals, And flames issue from his mouth.
Dens Aande tænder som glødende Kul, Luer staar ud af dens Gab.
22 In his neck dwelleth strength, And terror danceth before him.
Styrken bor paa dens Hals, og Angsten hopper foran den.
23 The flakes of his flesh cleave fast together; They are firm upon him, and cannot be moved.
Tæt sidder Kødets Knuder, som støbt til Kroppen; de rokkes ikke;
24 His heart is solid like a stone; Yea, solid like the nether millstone.
fast som Sten er dens Hjerte støbt, fast som den nederste Møllesten.
25 When he riseth up, the mighty are afraid; Yea, they lose themselves for terror.
Naar den rejser sig, gyser Helte, fra Sans og Samling gaar de af Skræk.
26 The sword of him that assaileth him doth not stand, The spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.
Angriberens Sværd holder ikke Stand, ej Kastevaaben, Spyd eller Pil.
27 He regardeth iron as straw, And brass as rotten wood.
Jern regner den kun for Halm og Kobber for trøsket Træ;
28 The arrow cannot make him flee; Sling-stones to him become stubble;
Buens Søn slaar den ikke paa Flugt, Slyngens Sten bliver Straa for den,
29 Clubs are accounted by him as straw; He laugheth at the shaking of the spear.
Stridskøllen regnes for Rør, den ler ad det svirrende Spyd.
30 Under him are sharp potsherds; He spreadeth out a thrashing-sledge upon the mire.
Paa Bugen er der skarpe Rande, dens Spor i Dyndet er som Tærskeslædens;
31 He maketh the deep to boil like a caldron; He maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.
Dybet faar den i Kog som en Gryde, en Salvekedel gør den af Floden;
32 Behind him he leaveth a shining path; One would think the deep to be hoary.
bag den er der en lysende Sti, Dybet synes som Sølverhaar.
33 Upon the earth there is not his master; He is made without fear.
Dens Lige findes ikke paa Jord, den er skabt til ikke at frygte.
34 He looketh down upon all that is high; He is king over all the sons of pride.
Alt, hvad højt er, ræddes for den, den er Konge over alle stolte Dyr.
