The range of the mountains is his pasture, and he searches after every green thing.
Behold now behemoth, which I made as well as thee. He eats grass as an ox.
And everything upon which [any part] of their carcass falls shall be unclean, whether oven, or range for pots, it shall be broken in pieces; they are unclean, and shall be unclean to you.
He scorns the tumult of the city, neither does he hear the shoutings of the driver.
Will the wild-ox be content to serve thee? Or will he abide by thy crib?
Does the wild donkey bray when he has grass? Or the ox moo over his fodder?