By the rivers of Babylon—
there we sat down and wept
when we remembered Zion.

Happy is he who takes your little ones
and dashes them against the rocks.

Daughter Babylon, doomed to destruction,
happy is the one who pays you back
what you have done to us.

Remember, Lord, what the Edomites said
that day at Jerusalem:
“Destroy it! Destroy it
down to its foundations!”

If I forget you, Jerusalem,
may my right hand forget its skill.

There we hung up our lyres
on the poplar trees,

How can we sing the Lord’s song
on foreign soil?

for our captors there asked us for songs,
and our tormentors, for rejoicing:
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion.”

May my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth
if I do not remember you,
if I do not exalt Jerusalem as my greatest joy!