Of Babel, and thought of the day

When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters,

Made Salem's high places his prey;

And ye, oh her desolate daughters!

Were scattered all weeping away.

在巴比伦的河边我们坐下来

悲痛地哭泣，我们想到那一天

我们的敌人如何在屠杀叫喊中，

焚毁了撒冷的高耸的神殿：

而你们，呵，她凄凉的女儿！

Which rolled on in freedom below,

They demanded the song; but, oh never

That triumph the stranger shall know!

May this right hand be withered for ever,

Ere it string our high harp for the foe!

当我们忧郁地坐在河边

看着脚下的河水自由地奔流，

他们命令我们歌唱；呵，绝不！

我们绝不在这事情上低头！

宁可让这只右手永远枯瘦，

Oh Salem! its sound should be free;

And the hour when thy glories were

ended

But left me that token of thee:

And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended

With the voice of the spoiler by me!

我把那竖琴悬挂在柳梢头，

噢，撒冷！它的歌声该是自由的；

想到你的光荣丧尽的那一刻，

却把你的这遗物留在我这里：

呵，我绝不使它优美的音调