Beautiful heights, city of a great King,

From the western coast my desire burns towards thee.

Pity and tenderness burst in me, remembering

Thy former glories, thy temple now broken stones.

I wish I could fly to thee on the wings of an eagle

And mingle my tears with thy dust.

Beautiful heights, city of a great King,

From the western coast my desire burns towards thee.

Pity and tenderness burst in me, remembering

Beautiful heights, city of a great King,

From the western coast my desire burns towards thee.

Pity and tenderness burst in me, remembering

Thy former glories, thy temple now broken stones.

I wish I could fly to thee on the wings of an eagle

And mingle my tears with thy dust.

I have sought thee, love, though the King is not there

And instead of Gilead’s balm, snakes and scorpions.

Let me fall on thy broken stones and tenderly kiss them—

The taste of thy dust will be sweeter than honey to me.