Two poems written and translated by Jovana Simic Roussou

Minotaur

Like a brave Theseus, 
before he would head into the labyrinth 
of underground garages 
for another night shift, he would linger 
to bid farewell to his wife— 
the one who, from Ariadne, 
dwindled through years 
into Arid Ane.

Each day, on his leaving 
she would hand him 
a chunky knitted vest 
of worsted wool, 
spun so tight, 
that no strand of hope could 
ever slip through.

Down in the corridors 
of the underworld, while figuring out
 how to outwit the beasts, 
he'd spin a yarn, 
unraveling his own soul 
whenever he needed to pick up the thread, 
coming apart at the seams, 
stripped bare in the end.

With each return 
to the light of day, 
he resembled more and more 
the Minotaur
tied up in knots.



Минотаур (Minotaur, translated from Serbian by the author)

Као храбри Тезеј,
пре него се запути у лавиринт 
подземних гаража
да одради још једну ноћну смену,
дуго би се поздрављао са женом
која се од Аријадне 
годинама крунила 
до Јадне.

Свакодневно доштрикаван
вунени прслук на фркет
који му је давала на одласку
био је чврсто уплетен;
никако се из њега
није могао извући
трачак наде.

Доле у ходницима полусвета,
довијајући се како да помрси
рачуне зверима,
распредао би приче
расплићући сопствену душу
кад устреба да надовеже нит,
парајући се полако
до својих клот прса.

При сваком следећем изласку
на видело дана
све више је личио
на Минотаура
уплетеног у кучине.

Penelope

I await you.

Patience still serves me,
and I rejoice in each new wrinkle won.

Empires have fallen,
lulled, suckled on the public teat,
rotted in foreign tongues,
and the coup was endorsed.
All has boiled over into disgrace,
thick as spoiled preserves,
and the soil has soaked up the stench.

You have missed so much,
yet you shall understand
and accustom yourself in time.

Our lands are now forsaken.
Everyone has scattered,
in quiet,
as though strolling away.
The cherry trees blossom in peace,
no coarse hands remain 
to harvest or harm.

And they recall so little:
neither our son,
nor you.

If you do not return soon,
I too shall fail to know you.






Пенелопа (Penelope, translated from Serbian by the author)

Чекам те.

Стрпљење ме још служи
и свакој се новој бори радујем.

Царства су пропала
уснула на чиновничкој сиси
утрулила у непознатим језицима
и преврат је озваничен.
Све се укувало у срамоти
густој као ускисао пекмез	
и земља повукла воњ.

Много си пропустио
али схватићеш
и навићи се некако већ.

Код нас је сад пусто.
Сви су се разбежали
полако
као да шетају.
Трешње у миру цветају,
без грубих руку
сезонских берача.

И не памте много:
ни сина,
ни тебе.

Не дођеш ли ускоро
ни ја те нећу познати.

Jovana Simic Roussou is a Serbian poet living in Greece. She writes in Serbian, Greek, and English and is the author of four published poetry collections in Serbian, as well as a bilingual Greek–Serbian children’s book. Her work has appeared in magazines and anthologies across the Balkans and has received several regional literary awards. Her poetry, originally written in English or self-translated from Serbian, has been published or is forthcoming in Plume, Mantis (Stanford University), Exchanges (University of Iowa), Fairy Tale Review, Trafika Europe, and Blue Unicorn.

8 September 2026