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An Anthology of Jugoslav Poetry (ed. by Dr. B. Stevenson Stanoyevich) - PG. 1920. Only the translators are credited. I'm not clear if these were anonymous works or folk songs or if the authors were erased. The editor's translations read oddly in English, missing pronouns and articles and such; I'm not sure if that was true to the original or required for meter. Each of the other translators had their own issues.

By solitude and woe surrounded - "I: The Curse" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Bound to each other in earliest vow - "II: Farewell" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Cursed them for their treacheries - "IX: Curse" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Bring and betoken toil and grief - "IX: Curse" transl. by Sir John Bowring

False tongues three have whisper'd evil - "X: Salutation of the Morning Star" transl. by Sir John Bowring

And no sleep renew his strength to bear it - "X: Salutation of the Morning Star" transl. by Sir John Bowring

And the men on the nettles under the sky - "XII: Royal Converse" transl. by Sir John Bowring

An old bridegroom is a worthless maple - "XIII: Rosa" transl. by Sir John Bowring

And to the sun God gave a speedy answer - "XIV: The Maiden and the Sun" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Evil to her shall be her husband's brother - "XIV: The Maiden and the Sun" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Evil to her shall be her husband's father - "XIV: The Maiden and the Sun" transl. by Sir John Bowring

The falcon soars both far and high - "XVI: The Falcon" transl. by Sir John Bowring

A golden spindle with the flax of Egypt bound around it - "XIX: Nightingales" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Her hands the fatal cup supplied - "XXI: The Fratricide" transl. by Sir John Bowring

I'll never drink the proffer'd wine - "XXVII: Foolish Vow" transl. by Sir John Bowring

A sickle of silver in fingers of gold - "XXIX: Lepota" transl. by Sir John Bowring

By careless lips profaned to be - "XXXV: The Young Shepherds" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Unhallow'd thoughts might soon defame - "XXXV: The Young Shepherds" transl. by Sir John Bowring

What thought of honey flows - "XXXIX: Apprehension" transl. by Sir John Bowring

The clouds broke out in fiery lightning - "XL: Milica" transl. by Sir John Bowring

And the hens are cackling all in riot - "XLVIII: The Sultaness" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Of pearls two measures--of gold but three - "XLVIII: The Sultaness" transl. by Sir John Bowring

In the tavern bear the golden cup - "LIII: Mine Everywhere" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Carved his body from a bough of box-tree - "LXIV: Brotherless Sisters" transl. by Sir John Bowring

For food they gave him honey sweet - "LXIV: Brotherless Sisters" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Whose path the darkest clouds o'ershade - "LXXII: Unhappy Bride" transl. by Sir John Bowring

On that same spot the bitterest rue and wormwood - "LXXII: Unhappy Bride" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Gather wormwood into boiling water press its bitters - "LXXX: Youth and Age" transl. by Sir John Bowring

Better dwell with youth upon the mountains - "LXXX: Youth and Age" transl. by Sir John Bowring

More sweet than amber honey - "LXXXVIII: A Soul's Sweetness" transl. by Robert Bulwer Lytton (Owen Meredith)

The amber dower of the building bee - "LXXXVIII: A Soul's Sweetness" transl. by Robert Bulwer Lytton (Owen Meredith)

Discover fragrance of such sweet power - "LXXXVIII: A Soul's Sweetness" transl. by Robert Bulwer Lytton (Owen Meredith)

Have given a child to this world of woe - "LXXXIX: Reminiscences" transl. by Robert Bulwer Lytton (Owen Meredith)

Unplanted, unsown, blooming alone - "XCIII: Plucking a Flower" transl. by Robert Bulwer Lytton (Owen Meredith)

Neither grafted nor grown, neither gather'd nor blown - "XCIII: Plucking a Flower" transl. by Robert Bulwer Lytton (Owen Meredith)

Whom the wan clouds fondly follow - "XCV: A Serbian Beauty" transl. by Robert Bulwer Lytton (Owen Meredith)

Nor keep the place from Sorrow - "XCVI: Sleeplessness" transl. by Robert Bulwer Lytton (Owen Meredith)

With golden peacock proudly on one shoulder - "CXII: The Peacock and the Nightingale" transl. by J.W. Wiles

No first place to human boast - "CXIII: The First Toast" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Woe to the wolf that eats not flesh - "CXV: Woes" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Woe to legs with a foolish head - "CXV: Woes" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Woe to gilt on an unclean bed - "CXV: Woes" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Woe to the gun in a fearsome hand - "CXV: Woes" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Woe to the wolf whom the ravens feed - "CXV: Woes" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Woe to the cock who strutteth on ice - "CXV: Woes" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Woe to the nightingale singing in the mill - "CXV: Woes" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Seven stout ghosts so hearty and hale - "CXVI: Hard to Believe" transl. by J.W. Wiles

While the burning sun her crew did freeze - "CXVI: Hard to Believe" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Two wingless geese flew up the sky - "CXVI: Hard to Believe" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Nor complain in days of trouble - "CXVII: The Conditions" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Nought he takes from out the world - "CXVII: The Conditions" transl. by J.W. Wiles

And in her dream a great tree grew - "CXXVI: Dream of the Holy Virgin" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Branches from her own heart crept - "CXXVI: Dream of the Holy Virgin" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Thorns are growing at the house-door - "CXXVII: Mother at the Tomb of Her Son" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Cuckoos mourn around the house - "CXXVII: Mother at the Tomb of Her Son" transl. by J.W. Wiles

In ashes our hearth fire is hidden - "CXXVII: Mother at the Tomb of Her Son" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Pale in the dust now is my sun - "CXXVII: Mother at the Tomb of Her Son" transl. by J.W. Wiles

Buying the riches of the sea - "CXLII: Sea Merchant" transl. by Dr. B. Stevenson Stanoyevich

But the fortress gates are higher - "CXLIII: Angela as Watchman" transl. by Dr. B. Stevenson Stanoyevich

Belted with the moonbeams, and flowering with the stars - "CXLIII: Angela as Watchman" transl. by Dr. B. Stevenson Stanoyevich


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