Upon the willowsin the midstof it We hungour harps.
Givethanksto the LORDwith the lyre;Singpraisesto Him with a harpof tenstrings.
Raisea song,strikethe timbrel,The sweetsoundinglyrewith the harp.
The gaietyof tambourinesceases,The noiseof revelersstops,The gaietyof the harpceases.
"So I will silencethe soundof your songs,and the soundof your harpswill be heardnomore.
"Then I will turnyour festivalsinto mourningAnd allyour songsinto lamentation;And I will bringsackclothon everyone'sloinsAnd baldnesson everyhead.And I will makeit like [a time of] mourningfor an onlyson,And the endof it will be like a bitterday.
"And the soundof harpistsand musiciansand flute-playersand trumpeterswill not be heardin you anylonger;and nocraftsmanof anycraftwill be foundin you any longer;and the soundof a millwill not be heardin you any longer;
