Psalm 137

By the rivers of Babylon we sat
And shed tears as we remembered Zion.
There upon poplar boughs we hung our harps,
For our captors demanded a song from us.
Our tormentors wanted a joyful tune.
“Sing to us,” they said, “a song of Zion.”

How, we asked, can we sing a song
Of Zion in a foreign land?
If I forget you, Jerusalem,
May my right hand forget how to play.
May my tongue stick to my palate,
If I do not remember you,
If I do not raise Jerusalem
Above my greatest source of joy.

Remember, O Jehovah, what the people
Of Edom said when Jerusalem was seized.
“Tear it down!  Raze it to its foundations.”

O Babylon, doomed to be despoiled,
Blessed is he who repays you
For the things you have done to us.
Blessed who seizes your babies
And dashes them against the rocks.