29 A club seems to it but a piece of straw;it laughs at the rattling of the lance.
30 Its undersides are jagged potsherds,leaving a trail in the mud like a threshing-sledge.
31 It makes the depths churn like a boiling cauldronand stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment.
32 It leaves a glistening wake behind it;one would think the deep had white hair.
33 Nothing on earth is its equal –a creature without fear.
34 It looks down on all that are haughty;it is king over all that are proud.’