I broke the fangs of the wicked, and made him drop his prey from his teeth.

There is the roaring of the lion and the growling of the young lion, but the teeth of the young lions are broken.

Why do I put myself in peril, and take my life in my hands?

My bones stick to my skin and my flesh; I have escaped alive with only the skin of my teeth.

It lives on a rock and spends the night there, on a rocky crag and a fortress.

Who can open the doors of its mouth? Its teeth all around are fearsome.

His anger has torn me and persecuted me; he has gnashed at me with his teeth; my adversary locks his eyes on me.