Inkless Wells

Inkless Wells

Inkless Wells

Paul Wells on all the latest out of Ottawa—along with the occasional post about jazz. Follow Paul on Twitter: @InklessPW

Music: "…or was it your heart bursting?"

by Paul Wells on Sunday, April 11, 2010 9:05am - 12 Comments

By one of the odd coincidences a capital city sometimes serves up, the Ottawa Symphony Orchestra has long been scheduled to play a complete program of Polish music tomorrow night, Monday. The Polish embassy was already taking an active interest in the concert. I’ll be out of town but was already regretting the prospect of missing it. Now, given the tragic news from Smolensk, I thought I’d pass word of it on to you.

The program includes two of the most prominent Polish compositions of the 20th century — Gorecki’s Third Symphony, which has enjoyed a surprising but welcome pop notoriety since Peter Weir used it in the score for the Jeff Bridges movie Fearless; and Lutoslawski’s Concerto for Orchestra, as dramatic and imaginative as any piece I know. The third piece, which will open the concert, makes the coincidence of timing deeper, richer and eerie.

It’s the Elegia by Peter Paul Koprowski, a Polish-Canadian composer who’s been retained as one of the NAC’s composers-in-residence for the next couple of years. It’s a setting, for solo soprano voice, of the poem Elegy on a Polish Boy by Krzysztof Kamil Baczynski. He wrote it in March of 1944 and, I discovered this morning, it goes like this:

They kept you, little son, from dreams like trembling butterflies,
they wove you, little son, in dark red blood two mournful eyes,
they painted landscapes with the yellow stitch of conflagrations,
they decorated all with hangmen’s trees the flowing oceans.

They taught you, little son, to know by heart your land of birth
as you were carving out with tears of iron its many paths.
They reared you in the darkness and fed you on terror’s bread;
you traveled gropingly that shamefulest of human roads.

And then you left, my lovely son, with your black gun at midnight,
and felt the evil prickling in the sound of each new minute.
Before you fell, over the land you raised your hand in blessing.
Was it a bullet killed you, son, or was it your heart bursting?


Four and a half months after he wrote those lines, Baczynski was shot to death in the first days of the Warsaw Uprising.

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  • http://intensedebate.com/people/Gaunilon Gaunilon

    "By one of the odd coincidences …."

    Perhaps, or perhaps one of those fitting "everything happens for a reason" moments one so often encounters.

    I hope the NAC is packed to overflowing for this concert. There probably isn't a better way to show solidarity.

  • http://www.pogge.ca skdadl

    Thank you, Mr Wells. Those are beautiful, your own reflections and Baczynski's poem.

  • ex canuck

    The poem is powerful and its beauty has left one weeping.

  • ex canuck

    I have learned that all Polish elementary sholars commit this poem to memory. Thus they have committed to memory a noble thought within noble poetry.

  • common man

    Thanks to Mr. Wells for his kind words. He shows that there is a strong connection between the poem by Bacyzynski and the courage and dignity of the Polish warriors at the time of the Warsaw Uprising.

    Some people seem to be prisoners of their past especially if their fate has been difficult. The Poles seem to be aware of their cruel past but they don/t carry around the bitterness of some. I would expect they will remember the tragedy of yesterday but will carry on just fine.

  • http://intensedebate.com/people/CTM Claudia Lemire

    Paul, the poem was beautiful, really moving!
    I wish I was in Ottawa to attend the Concert.
    My thoughts are with Poland, I wish them Strength, Compassion, Courage and Hope.

  • http://Www.karenkrisfalusi.wordpress.com Karen Krisfalusi

    By some eerie co-incidence I read this post and noticed the butterfly, red and yellow. Oh where are you going said the false, false fly? I’m flying from memory Wood pigeon Red Admiral Yellow Harvest Orange Night.

  • http://Www.karenkrisfalusi.wordpress.com Karen Krisfalusi

    Roy Bacyzynsky, my dead father’s dead friend? The Painted Bird, my mother’s book that I read when I was 7. Jerzy Kosinksi reared me in darkness and fed me terror’s bread. The poles are brutes. Bohunks. The Cyraneszka flys the smoke of your burning body to Egypt.

  • Mulletaur

    Awesomely beautiful. Thanks.

  • MacLean's Regular

    Means absolutely nothing to me.

    Seriously, Carole MacNeil and Adrienne Arsenault were carrying on theThe National<//i> this evening as if this plane crash were another 9/11.

    Slow weekend?

    • John D

      Yeah, I mean 100 people died but it's not like it was 100 Americans or anything.

  • Diva

    Paul, you do surprise me at times. Pleasantly.

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