Amazing Songs & Other Delights is back with a new programme the #44 - The Dulce et Decorum Est edition that airs tomorrow on Yé Yé Radio: yeyeradio.com/(or on the app)
Dulce et Decorum Est is a line from Horace's Odes of which the full sentence is "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori" (it is sweet and fitting to die for one's country) used as the antithesis, "The old Lie", as an expression of senseless loss of life of the glorious meaning in Horace by Wilfred Owen in his poem of the same name.
April 24th is the eve of 25 de Abril (April 25th) that came to be know as A Revolução dos Cravos (The Carnation Revolution) a military coup d'etat that deposed the 48 year Military than right wing running dictartorship (28.05.1926-15.04.1974) in Portugal leadimg to the demise of Portugal's Colonial War (1961-1975)
Owen wrote Dulce et Decorum Est while a soldier in the trenches of WWI. Wilfred died seven days before the 1918 Artistice Owne's poems were mosty written between August 1917 and September 1918 and live on.
The programme opens with Christopher Eccleston reading Owen's poem and ends with the choir of prisoner soldiers in Merry Christmas Merry, Mr. Lawrence singing the 23rd Psalm.
Not all songs relate to war. At least not in the strict sense of war. Some approach daily struggles, the hardships of working people or racism or injustice. The Portuguese songs are from before the end of the dictartoship. From a time when every word had to carefully measured, inuendos or love, romantic and longing song spoke what could not be said. Although Reinaldo Ferreira poem sang by José Afonso is rather to the point, the soldier will only return home in a pine box. Chico Buarque's Construção is a critique of the Brazilian social situation under the Brazilian military dictatorship (01.04.1964-15-03-1985).
Both Dulce et Decorum Est and 23rd Psalm can be read bellow the tracklist.
Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
23rd Psalm as in Ryuichi Sakamoto's version for Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence
The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want;
He makes me down to lie
In pastures green; He leadeth me
The quiet waters by
My soul He doth restore again
And me to walk doth make
Within the paths of righteousness
E’en for His own name’s sake
Yea, though I walk in death’s dark vale
Yet will I fear no ill;
For Thou art with me, and Thy rod
And staff me comfort still
My table Thou hast furnished
In presence of my foes
All previous shows: www.mixcloud.com/infoyeye/stream | www.mixcloud.com/raquelpinheiro/stream/
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