By the rivers of Babylon, it was there we were allowed to
rest; when we reached the shores of the Tigris and
Euphrates, then we found time for tears.
    The harps we'd brought with us -- what was left of them from the
Temple's wreck -- these we leaned against the riverside trees,
    we sat on the bank and wept for what had been Zion.
    Then our Babylonian captors demanded music,
    commanded us to act glad, saying:
    "Sing us one of your Jew songs!"
    With what cheer could we sing the songs of Jah
    kidnapped to this new shore?
    Jerusalem!  If I ever forget you may I have a stroke!
    May my right arm be paralysed, my tongue forget how to
speak --
    if Jerusalem isn't still more to me than any pleasure,
    and no pleasure true or real that I can't share with her.
    Remember, Adonai, what Edom did, how they helped
Babylon's armies,
    don't forget Jerusalem's last day, when they shouted:
"Plough it under,
    tear out Jerusalem's rocks by the roots!"
    And Babylon, God remembers you,
    Babylon about to fall.
    Lucky!  whoever gets to do to you what you did to us,
    who'll seize your children and smash them against rocks.