By the rivers of Babylon we were seated, weeping at the memory of Zion,

Happy is the man who takes your little ones, crushing them against the rocks.

O daughter of Babylon, whose fate is destruction; happy is the man who does to you what you have done to us.

O Lord, keep in mind against the children of Edom the day of Jerusalem; how they said, Let it be uncovered, uncovered even to its base.

If I keep not your memory, O Jerusalem, let not my right hand keep the memory of its art.

Hanging our instruments of music on the trees by the waterside.

How may we give the Lord's song in a strange land?

For there those who had taken us prisoners made request for a song; and those who had taken away all we had gave us orders to be glad, saying, Give us one of the songs of Zion.

If I let you go out of my thoughts, and if I do not put Jerusalem before my greatest joy, let my tongue be fixed to the roof of my mouth.