Befitting mankind
There on the poplars
We hung up our harps
Babylon’s river
Waters the pastures
Our captors asked us
For songs, songs of joy
Soaks the reed thicket
Fields sprout with new growth
Our torturers cried
Come give us a song
The meadows aglow
The barley springs up
Daughter Babylon
Doomed to destruction
Thanks to your waters
The grain is piled high
Happy is the one
Who will repay you
The grassland grows tall
The flocks roam and graze
Happy is the one
Who grabs your infants
Water of wisdom
Lavishes the land
And dashes their soft
Bodies against rocks
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