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Though they aren't sung in this arrangement, here are the lyrics, in English and in French:
ENGLISH:
O Canada!
Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all of us command.
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!
From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
FRENCH:
Ô Canada! Terre de nos aïeux,
Ton front est ceint de fleurons glorieux!
Car ton bras sait porter l'épée,
Il sait porter la croix!
Ton histoire est une épopée
Des plus brillants exploits.
Et ta valeur, de foi trempée,
Protégera nos foyers et nos droits.
Protégera nos foyers et nos droits.
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In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hand we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
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Marching the man
soldiers going along with drums
over the earth, over the earth
to kill yet
is the air
sweet and clear
the sun rides and the wind glides
They
with keen blades go
marching marching over the earth
while the sun rides
and the wind glides
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Twilight, the shadows darken on the leas,
The noises of the day are hushed at rest;
Even the wind, soft rising in the west
Falters and dies beneath the whispering trees.
No jarring human voices cry or speak,
Twilight, ah, Sweetheart, may I kiss your cheek?
Night, a pale moon rises through the haze,
A nightingale trills in a thicket near
As suddenly night’s voices sharp and clear
Echo and re-echo through the maze;
For twilight’s hold of silence falters, slips;
Night. Oh beloved Mine, give me your lips.
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With arrows on their quarters and with numbers on their hoofs,
With the trampling sound of twenty that re-echoes in the roofs,
Low of crest and dull of coat, wan and wild of eye,
Through our English village the Canadians go by.
Shying at a passing cart, swerving from a car,
Tossing up an anxious head to flaunt a showy star,
Racking at a Yankee gait, reaching at the rein,
Twenty raw Canadians are tasting life again!
Hollow-necked and hollow-flanked, lean of rib and hip,
Strained and sick and weary with the wallow of the ship,
Glad to smell the turf again, hear the robin’s call,
Tread again the country road they lost at Montreal!
Fate may bring them rule and woe; better steeds than they
Sleep beside the English guns a hundred leagues away;
But till war hath need of them lightly lie their reins,
Softly fall the feet of them along the English lanes.
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All the windy ways of man
Are a smoke that rises up.
— TENNYSON
Breath of the mine,
Wraith of the oak—
Who shall divine
The riddle of smoke?
Weave me a cloud,
Cover the sky;
Weave me a shroud:
Life is a lie!
Weave it not thin,
Weave it not fine;
Vivid as sin,
This, the design:
Beings of might
Toiling with death;
Frail things afright,
Gasping for breath;
Cities of doom,
Blackened and grim;
Battle-cloud’s gloom;
Charred forests dim;
Crater and pit,
Furnace and pyre;—
Boldly in-knit
With garlands of fire.
Weave it!
The dust lies in the urn:
So at last must
All the world burn.
Take then your toll,
Weaver of cloud.
Follows the whole:
Weave me a shroud.
Weave me it true,
Weave me it well—
Weave me it, weave me it,
Vapour of hell.
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The rain will help—I’m not so thirsty now
How cool it falls upon my burning lips!
This is a frightful thing—I realize how
It drives men mad, like scores of scourging whips.
The still cool dark is better than the light!
The sun beats down so fiercely through the day,
It seems to burn away my very sight—
And shrivel me to nothing where I lay.
This “No Man’s Land” is strange—a neutral ground,
Where friend and foe together come to sleep.
Indifferent to the shaking hell of sound—
To shell still searching for more grain to reap.
Kincaid died very well!
Before he went
He smiled a bit and said he hoped we’d won;
And then he said he saw his home in Kent,
And then lay staring at the staring sun.
That German over there was peaceful, too.
He looked a long, long time across their line,
And then he tried to sing some song he knew
And so passed on without another sign.
Well this won’t do for me—I’d best get back,
I’m just a little sleepy, I confess,
But I must be in time, we may attack—
The lads would miss me too at evening mess.
A moment more, and then I’ll make a start—
I can’t be shirking at a time like this,
I’ll just repeat—I know them all by heart—
Some words of hers that ended in a kiss.
Why do I seem to feel her tender hand?
To see her eyes with all their old time light?
Is she beside me? Ah, I understand—
I think perhaps I’ll sleep here through the night.
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"The Great War Sextet: Canadian War Poetry with Trombone & Strings" is presented as a conceptual journey through the experience of war and its effect upon the sojourning artist; an Unknown Soldier. This album is dedicated to all artists whose earthly existence was cut too short and too young by war. This album also honours those who bring to bear their creativity in response to tragedy and human darkness.
This piece premiered on November 9th and 10th, 2019, one hundred and one years since the Armistice concluded the great crucible that was World War 1. Featuring performances and poetry readings by bass trombonist Felix Del Tredici, a string quintet that includes Marianne Di Tomaso, Essie Liu, Maxim Despax, Jake Klinkenborg, and Vicente Garcia, under the baton of Pratik Ghandi, with original music by Benjamin Harry Sajo, we bridge the temporal chasm and find common ground for our own anxious age.
The sheer trauma of those four long years (1914-1918) cannot be underestimated: the collapse of colonial empires, the mechanized forces of industry upon our natural inclinations for peaceful existence, the shattering of lives and nations into so many pieces. In the arts, we see the fiery birth of Modernism and the blocs of jaded fatalism and cynicism squared off against an unyielding Romantic optimism regarding the potential of the twentieth century.
In this work, the 21st-century composer draws direct inspiration from these men, touched in some profound ways, by the Canadian experience during wartime. Some died upon foreign fields, while others survived, but they were all literary men who found beauty and rare pleasure in words and their arrangements:
Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD;
Sapper W.W.E. Ross, Canadian Expeditionary Force Signal Corp;
Private H. Smalley Sarson, Canadian Field Ambulance;
William H. Ogilvie, Army Remount Service;
Second Lieutenant Bernard Freeman Trotter, Leicester Regiment, 11th Battalion; and
Corporal Adelard Audette, 22nd Battalion.
Their writings, and those of others, can be found in the book "We Wasn’t Pals: Canadian Poetry and Prose of the First World War", edited by Barry Callaghan and Bruce Meyer (Toronto: Exile Editions Ltd., 2001).
What makes their poetry relevant today goes beyond their historical value. At the time of this album's release, the world is far from peaceful. Wars continue to be fought, lives sacrificed for noble and petty causes, whether at the barrel of the gun, a natural disaster, or in the microscopic combat against pandemic viruses. In each of these poems and their musical settings, you will find reflections on how profound and wistful a sense of the transience of life can be. You will experience how it's still possible to have visions of sincere innocent beauty in a hellish landscape; a realization of brotherly kinship between nameless combatants. But, most importantly, considering how most of these poems were written either on the Front or in a hospital, there is an unparalleled purity of feeling stemming from the deepest truth's of these men's souls. These poems are triumphs over their trauma, proving the creative pen is ultimately the champion over the sword.
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ARTIST BIOGRAPHIES:
The solo prelude tracks include the individual artist biographies for the members of the string quintet, which can also be read at
www.greatwarsextet.ca
THE CONDUCTOR:
Pratik Gandhi is a freelance conductor based in Toronto. He is currently music director of the Rouge River Winds and of Soup Can Theatre, resident conductor of the Toy Piano Composers ensemble, and vice-chair of the Concert Band division of Musicfest Canada. Over his career, Pratik has premiered dozens of new works by Canadian composers, and is credited as conductor on two albums of contemporary music: Bekah Simms' impurity chains, released on the CMC's Centrediscs label, and the Toy Piano Composers' self-titled debut album, from Redshift Records. Pratik is excited to be working on a work such as The Great War, which explores Canada's cultural history from an important time in its formation. Pratik holds degrees in conducting and percussion from the University of Western Ontario.
THE BASS TROMBONIST & NARRATOR:
Felix Del Tredici is a Canadian trombonist specializing in the performance of contemporary and improvised music. The New York Times has described him as an “extraordinarily versatile trombonist” whose performances are “disturbing yet fascinating” and “hair-raisingly virtuosic”.
He has performed with Klangforum Wien, Musikfabrik, Ensemble Signal, the Hong Kong New Music Ensemble, Kollektiv Totem, Lucerne Festival Academy, Ensemble Polywerk, No Hay Banda, and So Wrong It’s Right.
Felix is a Research Associate at MATRALAB, a research space of inter-x art where he collaborates with dancers, actors, sound artists, composers, and tech-garment designers on new works of art involving the trombone.
THE COMPOSER:
This is Benjamin Sajo's debut album, and exemplifies his current post-modern sensibilities, one that celebrates and finds inspiration from the histories of humanity upon the current states of the world.
Since completing his Masters of Music from McGill University in 2013, and his Undergraduate in Music Theory and Composition from the University of Western Ontario--now known as Western University--he's lived and worked across Canada. He now lives in Ottawa with his wife and pets, working as a teacher for the Ottawa Carleton District School Board and as a freelance composer.