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Gračanice, kad bar ne bi bila od kamena,
kad bi se mogla na nebesa vazneti,
ko Bogorodice Mileševe i Sopoćana,
da tuđa ruka kraj tebe travu ne plevi,
da ti vrane ne hodaju po paperti.
Ili tvoja zvona da bar ne tuku
kao srca predaka, Gračanice,
ili bar da svetitelji s tvog ikonostasa
nemaju naših neimara ruku,
ni anđeli Simonidino lice.
Da bar nisi toliko duboko
ukopana u tu zemlju i nas same
da se nismo privikli u tebe kleti,
Gračanice, kad bar ne bi bila od kamena,
kad bi se mogla u visine uzneti
Gračanice, da si nam bar jabuka,
da te možemo staviti u nedra
i zagrejati tako studenu od starosti,
da nam bar poljima oko tebe nisu
predaka divnih rasejane kosti.
Da te bar možemo podići na Taru,
u Kalenićku portu te preneti,
zaboraviti likove po tvom oltaru.
Gračanice, kad bar ne bi bila od kamena,
kad bi se mogla na nebesa vazneti.
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If only you were not made of stone, Gracanica,
if only you could ascend to the sky like
the Virgins of Mileseva and Sopocani,
then crows might not walk about your narthex
and alien hands weed the grass nearby.
Or if your bells, Gracanica, did not beat
like our forefathers' hearts,
if only the saints on your iconostasis
did not have our builders' arms and feet
or your angels Simonida's face.
If only you were not sunk so deep
in that soil and in our very selves
if you were not to us a name to swear by
if only you were not made of stone, Gracanica,
if only you could be lifted up high.
If only you were an apple, Gracanica,
that we might put you in our bosom
and warm you, cold with age as you are,
if only our long-gone forefathers' bones
were not scattered about you near and far.
If only we could lift you on to Mount Tara
or move you to the churchyard of Kalenic, or try
to forget the faces painted on your altar,
if only you were not made of stone, Gracanica,
if only you could ascend to the sky.
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