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20 (28) An arrow can’t make him flee;
for him, slingstones are so much chaff.
21 (29) Clubs count as hay,
and he laughs at a quivering javelin.
22 (30) His belly is as sharp as fragments of pottery,
so he moves across the mud like a threshing-sledge.

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20 Smoke pours from its nostrils(A)
    as from a boiling pot over burning reeds.
21 Its breath(B) sets coals ablaze,
    and flames dart from its mouth.(C)
22 Strength(D) resides in its neck;
    dismay goes before it.

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