| 1 |
Along the banks of Babylon’s rivers we sat as exiles, mourning our captivity, and wept with great love for Zion. |
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| 2 |
Our music and mirth were no longer heard, only sadness. We hung up our harps on the willow trees. |
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| 3 |
Our captors tormented us, saying, “Make music for us and sing one of your happy Zion-songs!” |
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| 4 |
But how could we sing the song of the Lord in this foreign wilderness? |
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| 5 |
May my hands never make music again if I ever forget you, O Jerusalem. |
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| 6 |
May I never be able to sing again if I fail to honor Jerusalem supremely! |
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| 7 |
And Lord, may you never forget what the sons of Edom did to us, saying, “Let’s raze the city of Jerusalem and burn it to the ground!”[1] |
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| 8 |
Listen, O Babylon, you evil destroyer! The one who destroys you will be rewarded above all others. You will be repaid for what you’ve done to us. |
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| 9 |
Great honor will come to those who destroy you and your future, by smashing your infants against the rubble of your own destruction. |
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