By the Rivers of Babylon

Sitting by a foreign current, 

with fear I will get swept away

if not tomorrow then someday, 

sipping slowly so I don’t fall,

tears well up and fill my eyes

over the thought of my demise.

By the rivers of Babylon,

as we think of Zion.

Is it for the sake of torment

that I must raise my voice in song

pretending so that I belong? 

How can I sing – when I recall

the stripping of my foundation,

to become both local and alien!

By the rivers of Babylon,

as we think of Zion.

Make my tongue thick to remain silent,

let my hand lose dexterity,

rather than denounce my identity.

To you I shall always call

both in despair and in elation.

My heart, my life lives in Zion.

We remember Zion.