137
By the rivers of Babylon
we sat down and wept
when we thought about Zion.
On the poplars there
we hung our harps.
There our captors required songs from us,
and those who mocked us required us to be happy, saying,
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion.”
How could we sing a song about Yahweh
in a foreign land?
If I ignore the memory of you, Jerusalem,
let my right hand forget her skill.
Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth
if I think about you no more,
if I do not prefer Jerusalem
more than my greatest delights.
Call to mind, Yahweh, what the Edomites did
on the day Jerusalem fell.
They said, “Tear it down, tear it down
to its foundations.”
Daughter of Babylon, soon to be destroyed—
may the person be blessed, whoever pays you back
for what you have done to us.
May the person be blessed, whoever takes and dashes your little ones
against a rock.