29. A club is counted as a piece of straw;it laughs at the rattling of the lance.
30. Its underparts are the sharp points of potsherds,it leaves its mark in the mud like a threshing sledge.
31. It makes the deep boil like a cauldronand stirs up the sea like a pot of ointment,
32. It leaves a glistening wake behind it;one would think the deep had a head of white hair.
33. The likes of it is not on earth,a creature without fear.