By the rivers of Bavel we sat down and wept as we remembered Tziyon.
We had hung up our lyres on the willows that were there,
when those who had taken us captive asked us to sing them a song; our tormentors demanded joy from us -"Sing us one of the songs from Tziyon!"
How can we sing a song about ADONAI here on foreign soil?
If I forget you, Yerushalayim, may my right hand wither away!
May my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I fail to remember you, if I fail to count Yerushalayim the greatest of all my joys.