Upon the willows in the midst thereof
We hanged up our harps.
For there they that led us captive required of us songs,
And our tormentors required of us mirth, saying:
“Sing for us one of the songs of Zion.”
How shall we sing Jehovah’s song
In a foreign land?
If I forget thee, Oh Jerusalem,
Let my right hand forget her skill.
Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth