We sat down by the canals of Babylon and wept Whenever Zion came back to our minds. We left our harps hanging in the willow trees, Because our captors asked us for a song. How do we sing what belongs to the Lord On ground that is foreign and hostile? Jerusalem, if I let you slip from memory, Let my right hand forget its own skill. Let my tongue lock silent against my mouth If I set anything above Jerusalem in my joy. Remember Edom on the day the city fell, Shouting, "Level it, level it to the ground." Daughter Babylon, marked out for ruin, Fortunate is the one who repays the debt you made, Who takes up your little ones in judgment And breaks them against the stones.