Simonida

Simonida

Your eyes were gouged out, oh beautiful image, 

On a pilaster at approach of night, 

Knowing that no one would witness the pillage

An Albanian’s knife robbed you of your sight.

But neither your mouth, nor your noble face 

To desecrate with his hand did he dare, 

Or touch your golden crown, or queenly lace

Beneath which lay your luxuriant hair.

Now in the church upon the stone pilaster 

Serenely bearing your tormented plight 

Dressed in the robes of mosaic and luster 

I see you sad, and dignified, and white.

Like stars extinguished in the distant past, 

Which yet transmit to men the far-off glow 

So that men see the light, the hue, the cast

Of stars lost to sight a long time ago,

Today upon me from your royal height, 

From that antique stone covered all in grime, 

Oh, sad Simonida, shines down the light 

Of eyes gouged sightless in another time.

(Translated by Kosara Gavrilović)

Simonida

They gouged out your eyes, beautiful picture!

On a stone slab, under night's guise.

Knowing that none could see him then,

An Arbanas with his knife dug out your eyes.

But your majestic face, and your mouth,

To touch he did not dare,

Nor your golden crown, nor your king's veil,

'Neith which lies your thick hair.

And now in the church, on the stone plynth,

In dress adorned by mosaic bright,

While you calmly bear your brutal fate,

I watch you - sad, ceremonial and white;

And like extinguished stars, whose

Light we still perceive,

So we see the shine, shape, and colour

Of distant stars that no longer breathe.

And so from the dark wall

On an ancient, sooted slab,

Still shine upon me, sad Simonida -

Your long since stolen eyes.

(Translated by Pavle Ninković)

Simonida

They dug out your eyes, beautiful picture

on a stone plate under the night disguise

knowing that no one can see him

with his dagger an Albanian dug your eyes.

But your noble face, your mouth

or golden crown and the royal cape,

to touch he did not dare

for under it lay your lush hair.

Now in the church on the pillar of stone

in a festive mosaic gown

you serenely your cruel doom bear

while I watch you solemn, sad and fair.

And like the darkened stars

that still vibrate the light

to see the shape, color and shine

of those distant stars that are no more

so from the dark wall and the ancient

sooty stone upon me still shine

my sad Simonida, your long,

long ago gauged eyes.

(Translated from Serbian Mira N. Mataric, (C))