By the rivers of Babylon we sit down and weep when we remember Zion.

On the poplars in her midst we hang our harps,

for there our captors ask us to compose songs; those who mock us demand that we be happy, saying:“Sing for us a song about Zion!”

How can we sing a song to the LORD in a foreign land?

If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand be crippled!

May my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, and do not give Jerusalem priority over whatever gives me the most joy.

Remember, O LORD, what the Edomites did on the day Jerusalem fell. They said,“Tear it down, tear it down, right to its very foundation!”

O daughter Babylon, soon to be devastated! How blessed will be the one who repays you for what you dished out to us!

How blessed will be the one who grabs your babies and smashes them on a rock!