We shall not escape Hell, my passionate

sisters, we shall drink black resins—

we who sang our praises to the Lord

with every one of our sinews, even the finest,

we did not lean over cradles or

spinning wheels at night, and now we are

carried off by an unsteady boat

under the skirts of a sleeveless cloak,

we dressed every morning in

fine Chinese silk, and we would

sing our paradisal songs at

the fire of the robbers’ camp,

slovenly needlewomen, (all

our sewing came apart), dancers,

players upon pipes: we have been

the queens of the whole world!

first scarcely covered by rags,

then with constellations in our hair, in

gaol and at feasts we have

bartered away heaven,

in starry nights, in the apple

orchards of Paradise.

—Gentle girls, my beloved sisters,

we shall certainly find ourselves in Hell!