Три сестры

Will you pull down the dark blue curtains;
Dear nurse, don’t fix potions for me in retorts.
At my bedside, you see, there’re standing my creditors:
Silent Charity, Faith, and numb Hope.

For the son of a short age it’s time to pay bills,
But the wallets are empty and fall out of the hands.
Don’t be sad and unhappy, oh, my Faith,
You have some other debtors in the world.

And I’ll say both and weakly, and gently,
Catching guiltily two of your hands with my lips:
Don’t be sad and unhappy, my Mother Hope,
You have some other sons at your fingertips.

I will stretch out my empty hands to Charity,
I will hear the penitential voice in response:
Don’t be sad and unhappy, my memories won’t go,
I’ve given away myself in your name.

And no matter what hands would caress you,
How unearthly the passion’s flame would burn you,
People’s gossip has paid off three times all your debts,
We are quits; you are clean for me as before.

Clean and innocent, I am lying in dawn’s light,
My bed linen flows down to the floor, white flag-like.
My three sisters, three judges, my merciful wives
Open credit for me for the very last time.

My three judges, three wives, my three merciful sisters
Open credit for me for unlimited time.