We were sitting by the rivers of Babylon. We cried when we remembered what had happened to Zion.
On the nearby poplar trees we hung up our harps.
Those who held us as prisoners asked us to sing. Those who enjoyed hurting us ordered us to sing joyful songs. They said, "Sing one of the songs of Zion to us!"
How can we sing the songs of the LORD while we are in another land?
Jerusalem, if I forget you, may my right hand never be able to play the harp again.
If I don't remember you, may my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth so I can't sing. May it happen if I don't consider Jerusalem to be my greatest joy.