1. O people of knowledge, inform me, for my patience has worn thin, and my penetrating insight has gone astray,
About three sisters who have clung to me, articulate women, adorned with two mute ones,

2. So wonder at old women who have clung to me, their coming to me every day against my will,
Neither fleeing from them in the sea, nor in the mountains' heights delivers me,

3. And if I divorce them, I would be cloaked in the disgrace of this world and steeped in sin,
Woe to my limbs from the marriage of Christians, except for death, my anxiety will not be relieved.