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Out there, we've walked quite friendly up to Death: Sat down and eaten with him, cool and bland, -- Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand. We've sniffed the green thick odour of his breath, -- Our eyes wept, but our courage didn't writhe. He's spat at us with bullets and he's coughed Shrapnel. We chorused when he sang aloft; We whistled while he shaved us with his scythe. Oh, Death was never enemy of ours! We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum. No soldier's paid to kick against his powers. We laughed, knowing that better men would come, And greater wars: when each proud fighter brags He wars on Death, for Life; not men, for flags.
Text Authorship:
- by Wilfred Owen (1893 - 1918), "The next war", from Arts and Letters, first published 1920 [author's text checked 2 times against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- [ None yet in the database ]
The text above (or a part of it) is used in the following settings:
- by (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976), "Dies irae", op. 66 no. 2, published 1961 [ soprano, tenor, baritone, satb chorus, boys' chorus, orchestra, chamber orchestra, organ ], from War Requiem, no. 2
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "La prochaine guerre", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Dr. Anthony Krupp) (Clo Blanco) , "La siguiente guerra", copyright © 2025, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2008-01-08
Line count: 14
Word count: 118
Allá, nos acercamos de manera bastante amistosa a la Muerte: nos sentamos a comer con ella, fríos e insípidos,— y perdonamos que se derramaran sus latas de ración en nuestras manos. Hemos olido el espeso y verdoso olor de su aliento, nuestros ojos lloraron, pero nuestro valor no se retorció. Nos ha escupido balas y ha tosido metralla. Hacíamos coro cuando ella cantaba en lo alto; silbamos mientras él nos afeitaba con su guadaña. ¡Oh, la Muerte nunca fue enemiga nuestra! Nos reímos de ella, nos aliamos con ella, vieja amiga. A ningún soldado le pagan por patear contra sus poderes. Nos reímos, sabiendo que vendrían hombres mejores y guerras mayores; cuando cada orgulloso combatiente se jacta de que pelea contra la Muerte - por la Vida, no contra los hombres sino por las banderas.
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to Spanish (Español) copyright © 2025 by Dr. Anthony Krupp and Clo Blanco, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on:
- a text in English by Wilfred Owen (1893 - 1918), "The next war", from Arts and Letters, first published 1920
This text was added to the website: 2025-03-31
Line count: 14
Word count: 134