FAREWELL THEN MY SO
The World At War
FAREWELL THEN MY SON
Do not call me, father
Do not seek me
Do not call me
Do not wish me bad
We are on a route uncharted
Fire and blood erase our tracks
On we fly on wings of thunder
Nevermore to sheath our swords
All of us in battle fallen
Not to be brought back by words
Will there be a rendez-vous?
I know not
I only know we still must fight
We are sandy grains in infinity
Never to meet, nevermore see light.
Farewell then, my son
Farewell then my conscience
My youth and my solace
My one and my only
And let this farewell be the end of a story
Of solitude vast than which none is more lonely
In which you remain barred forever and ever
From light and from air with your death pangs untold
Untold and unsoothed not to be resurrected
Forever and ever
An eighteen year old.
No trains ever come from those regions unscheduled or scheduled
No aeroplanes fly there.
Farewell then my son
For no miracles happen
In the world dreams do not come true
I will dream of you still as a baby
Treading the earth with little strong toes
The earth where already so many are buried
This song to my son then is come to a close.
Read by Laurence Olivier on The World at War