Alongside Babylon's streams, there we sat down, crying because we remembered Zion.
We hung our lyres up in the trees there
because that's where our captors asked us to sing; our tormentors requested songs of joy: "Sing us a song about Zion!" they said.
But how could we possibly sing the LORD's song on foreign soil?
Jerusalem! If I forget you, let my strong hand wither!
Let my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth if I don't remember you, if I don't make Jerusalem my greatest joy.
LORD, remember what the Edomites did on Jerusalem's dark day: "Rip it down, rip it down! All the way to its foundations!" they yelled.
Daughter Babylon, you destroyer, a blessing on the one who pays you back the very deed you did to us!
A blessing on the one who seizes your children and smashes them against the rock!