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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣄⣀⡀⣠⣾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣶⣿⣦⣜⣿⣿⣿⡟⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⡏⣴⣺⣦⣙⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀
⠀⣯⡇⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣬⣥⣭⣽⣿⣿⣧⣼⡇⣯⣇⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀
⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷
there we sat,
sat and wept,
as we thought of Zion.
There on the poplars
we hung up our lyres,
for our captors asked us there for songs,
our tormentors, for amusement:
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion.”