By the rivers of Babylon we sat mourning and weeping when we remembered Zion.
On the poplars of that land we hung up our harps.
There our captors asked us for the words of a song; our tormentors, for a joyful song:
“Sing for us a song of Zion!”
But how could we sing a song of the Lord in a foreign land?
If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my right hand wither.
May my tongue stick to my palate if I do not remember you,
If I do not exalt Jerusalem beyond all my delights.
Remember, Lord, against Edom that day at Jerusalem.
They said: “Level it, level it down to its foundations!”
Fair Babylon, you destroyer, happy those who pay you back the evil you have done us!
Happy those who seize your children and smash them against a rock.