ਅੱਯੂਬ 41
“Do you draw leviathan with a hook? And do you let down his tongue with a rope?
Do you put a reed in his nose? And pierce his jaw with a thorn?
Does he multiply supplications to you? Does he speak tender things to you?
Does he make a covenant with you? Do you take him for a perpetual servant?
5 ੫ ਕੀ ਤੂੰ ਉਹ ਦੇ ਨਾਲ ਉਸ ਤਰ੍ਹਾਂ ਖੇਡੇਂਗਾ ਜਿਵੇਂ ਪੰਛੀ ਨਾਲ, ਜਾਂ ਆਪਣੀਆਂ ਕੁੜੀਆਂ ਦਾ ਜੀ ਬਹਿਲਾਉਣ ਲਈ ਉਹ ਨੂੰ ਬੰਨ੍ਹ ਕੇ ਰੱਖੇਂਗਾ?
Do you play with him as a bird? And do you bind him for your girls?
(Companions feast on him, They divide him among the merchants!)
Do you fill his skin with barbed irons? And his head with fish-spears?
8 ੮ ਜੇਕਰ ਤੂੰ ਆਪਣਾ ਹੱਥ ਉਸ ਦੇ ਉੱਤੇ ਧਰੇਂ ਤਾਂ ਤੂੰ ਉਸ ਲੜਾਈ ਨੂੰ ਹਮੇਸ਼ਾ ਯਾਦ ਰੱਖੇਂਗਾ, ਤੂੰ ਫੇਰ ਕਦੇ ਅਜਿਹਾ ਨਾ ਕਰੇਂਗਾ!
Place your hand on him, Remember the battle—do not add!
Behold, the hope of him is found a liar, Also, is one not cast down at his appearance?
10 ੧੦ ਕੋਈ ਐਨੀ ਤੱਤੀ ਤਬੀਅਤ ਦਾ ਨਹੀਂ, ਜੋ ਉਹ ਦੇ ਛੇੜਨ ਦੀ ਹਿੰਮਤ ਕਰੇ, ਫੇਰ ਕੌਣ ਹੈ ਜੋ ਮੇਰੇ ਸਨਮੁਖ ਖੜ੍ਹਾ ਰਹਿ ਸਕੇ?
None so fierce that he awakes him, And who [is] he [who] stations himself before Me?
Who has brought before Me and I repay? Under the whole heavens it [is] Mine.
I do not keep silent concerning his parts, And the matter of might, And the grace of his arrangement.
Who has uncovered the face of his clothing? Who enters within his double bridle?
Who has opened the doors of his face? Around his teeth [are] terrible.
A pride—strong ones of shields, Shut up—a close seal.
They draw near to one another, And air does not enter between them.
They adhere to one another, They stick together and are not separated.
His sneezings cause light to shine, And his eyes [are] as the eyelids of the dawn.
Flames go out of his mouth, sparks of fire escape.
Smoke goes forth out of his nostrils, As a blown pot and reeds.
His breath sets coals on fire, And a flame goes forth from his mouth.
Strength lodges in his neck, And grief exults before him.
The flakes of his flesh have adhered—Firm on him—it is not moved.
His heart [is] firm as a stone, Indeed, firm as the lower piece.
The mighty are afraid at his rising, From his breakings they keep themselves free.
The sword of his overtaker does not stand, Spear, dart, and breastplate.
He reckons iron as straw, bronze as rotten wood.
The son of the bow does not cause him to flee, Stones of the sling are turned into stubble by him.
Darts have been reckoned as stubble, And he laughs at the shaking of a javelin.
Sharp points of clay [are] under him, He spreads gold on the mire.
31 ੩੧ ਉਹ ਡੂੰਘੇ ਪਾਣੀਆਂ ਨੂੰ ਦੇਗ ਵਾਂਗੂੰ ਉਛਾਲ ਦਿੰਦਾ ਹੈ, ਉਹ ਸਮੁੰਦਰ ਨੂੰ ਮੱਲ੍ਹਮ ਦੀ ਡੱਬੀ ਵਾਂਗੂੰ ਬਣਾ ਦਿੰਦਾ ਹੈ।
He causes the deep to boil as a pot, He makes the sea as a pot of ointment.
He causes a path to shine after him, One thinks the deep to be hoary.
There is not on the earth his like, That is made without terror.
He sees every high thing, He [is] king over all sons of pride.”
