[1] By the rivers of Babylon, we sat and wept when we thought of Zion, our home, so far away. [2] On the branches of the willow trees, we hung our harps and hid our hearts from the enemy. [3] And the men that surrounded us made demands that we clap our hands and sing- Songs of joy from days gone by, songs from Zion, our home. Such cruel men taunted us-haunted our memories. [4] How could we sing a song about the Eternal in a land so foreign, while still tormented, brokenhearted, homesick? Please don't make us sing this song. [5] O Jerusalem, even still, don't escape my memory. I treasure you and your songs, even as I hide my harp from the enemy. And if I can't remember, may I never sing a song again- may my hands never play well again- For what use would it be if I don't remember Jerusalem as my source of joy? [7] Remember, Eternal One, how the Edomites, our brothers, the descendants of Esau, stood by and watched as Jerusalem fell. Gloating, they said, "Destroy it; tear it down to the ground," when Jerusalem was being demolished. [8] O daughter of Babylon, you are destined for destruction! Happy are those who pay you back for how you treated us so you will no longer walk so proud. [9] Happy are those who dash your children against the rocks so you will know how it feels.
