His breath1 sets coals ablaze, and flames dart from his mouth.2
Strength3 resides in his neck; dismay goes before him.
The folds of his flesh are tightly joined; they are firm and immovable.
His chest is hard as rock, hard as a lower millstone.4
When he rises up, the mighty are terrified;5 they retreat before his thrashing.6
The sword that reaches him has no effect, nor does the spear or the dart or the javelin.78
Iron he treats like straw9 and bronze like rotten wood.
Arrows do not make him flee;10 slingstones are like chaff to him.
A club seems to him but a piece of straw;11 he laughs12 at the rattling of the lance.
His undersides are jagged potsherds, leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing sledge.13
He makes the depths churn like a boiling caldron14 and stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment.15