22
Strength dwells in his neck, And sorrow dances before him.
23
The folds of his flesh are joined together; They are firm on him and cannot be moved.
24
His heart is as hard as stone, Even as hard as the lower millstone.
25
When he raises himself up, the mighty are afraid; Because of his crashings they are beside themselves.
26
Though the sword reaches him, it cannot avail; Nor does spear, dart, or javelin.
27
He regards iron as straw, And bronze as rotten wood.
28
The arrow cannot make him flee; Slingstones become like stubble to him.
29
Darts are regarded as straw; He laughs at the threat of javelins.
30
His undersides are like sharp potsherds; He spreads pointed marks in the mire.
31
He makes the deep boil like a pot; He makes the sea like a pot of ointment.
32
He leaves a shining wake behind him; One would think the deep had white hair.