by
Wilfred Owen (1893 - 1918)
Language: English
Our translations: CAT FRE SPA
After the blast of lightning from the East,
The flourish of loud clouds, the Chariot Throne;
After the drums of time have rolled and ceased,
And by the bronze west long retreat is blown,
Shall life renew these bodies? Of a truth
All death will He annul, all tears assuage? -
Fill the void veins of Life again with youth,
And wash, with an immortal water, Age?
When I do ask white Age he saith not so:
"My head hangs weighed with snow."
And when I hearken to the Earth, she saith:
"My fiery heart shrinks, aching. It is death.
Mine ancient scars shalls not be glorified,
Nor my titanic tears, the sea, be dried."
First published in the Saturday Westminster Gazette, 1919.
Composition:
Set to music by (Edward) Benjamin Britten (1913 - 1976), "Sanctus", op. 66 no. 4, published 1961 [ soprano, tenor, baritone, satb chorus, boys' chorus, orchestra, chamber orchestra, organ ], from War Requiem, no. 4
Text Authorship:
See other settings of this text.
Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- FRE French (Français) (Pierre Mathé) , "La fin", copyright © 2015, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Dr. Anthony Krupp) (Clo Blanco) , "El fin", 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: 116
Language: French (Français)  after the English
Après la détonation d'un éclair à l'est,
Le fleurissement de nuages sonores, le Chariot Céleste ;
Après que les tambours du temps eurent roulé et cessé,
Et que la longue retraite vers l'ouest fut détruite par le bronze,
La vie renaîtra-t-elle de ces corps ? D'une vérité
Annulera-t-elle toute mort, tarira-t-elle toutes les larmes ?
Ces veines vides de Vie, les remplira-t-elle à nouveau de jeunesse
Et d'une eau immortelle purifiera-t-elle l'Âge ?
Lorsque j'interroge l'Âge blanc, il ne dit pas :
« Ma tête penche sous le poids de la neige. »
Et lorsque j'écoute la Terre, elle dit :
« Mon cœur se serre de douleur. Il est mort.
Mes anciennes cicatrices ne doivent pas être glorifiées,
Ni la mer de mes titanesques larmes asséchée. »
Text Authorship:
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2015 by Pierre Mathé, (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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This text was added to the website: 2015-03-21
Line count: 14
Word count: 123