Not All Of Me Will Die

by Tony Wakeford

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Dan Otto / Don Henson
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Dan Otto / Don Henson Another swirl over the horizon courtesy of Mr. Wakeford. Favorite track: Fullness Of August.
Rob Wosley
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Rob Wosley A challenging yet very moving work. Something that should probably be played in schools to teach people about the horrors men do.
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Recorded: Furfeather and Infinite Studios, 2008


released June 30, 2009

Artwork By - Tanya S [The Eastern Front]
Clarinet - David Negin
Guitar [12 String], Dulcimer, Electronics, Percussion - M (9)
Keyboards - Mercy Liao
Mastered By - M (9)
Oboe - Mark Baigent
Photography - Lesley Malone
Violin - Renee Rosen* , Yossi Negin
Violin, Vocals - Maria Vellanz
Vocals - Susan Matthews
Vocals, Bass, Double Bass, Keyboards, Drums, Loops [Guitar Loops] - Tony Wakeford
Vocals, Flute - Guy Harries



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Tony Wakeford London, UK

Anthony Charles "Tony" Wakeford (born 2 May 1959, Woking, Surrey) is an English folk and neoclassical musician who primarily records under the name Sol Invictus. Wakeford lives in London and is married to violinist Renée Rosen.
He also played bass, guitar and keyboards on a number of studio albums by Current 93 as well as playing with them live.
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Track Name: Non Omnias Moriar
Non omnis moriar, “Not all of me will die,”
Non omnis moriar. My grand estate—
Tablecloth meadows, invincible wardrobe castles,
Acres of bedsheets, finely woven linens,
And dresses, colorful dresses—will survive me.
I leave no heirs.
So let your hands rummage through Jewish things,
You woman of Chomino, you from Lvov, you mother of a Volksdeutscher.
May these things be useful to you and yours,
For you are near and dear to me; no lute playing, no empty words.
I am thinking of you, as you, when the Gestapo underlings came,
Thought of me, in fact reminded them about me.
So let my friends break out holiday goblets,
Celebrate my wake and their wealth:
Kilims and tapestries, bowls, candlesticks.
Let them drink all night and at daybreak
Begin their search for gemstones and gold
In sofas, mattresses, blankets and rugs.
Oh how the work will burn in their hands!
Clumps of horsehair, bunches of sea hay,
Clouds of fresh down from pillows and quilts,
Glued on by my blood, will turn their arms into wings,
Transfigure the birds of prey into angels.
Track Name: Fullness Of August

O pale-faced mothers of rosy-cheeked children; O fertile, proud, happy mothers
You'll go to gather cherries' juiciness with hands smooth from children's caresses
You'll go to celebrate the hot August weather of hearts as ripe as ears of rye
You'll go to venerate with your bare feet the black and swollen fertile soil
I've seen the lips, like fresh fruit's flesh, of lazy daydreaming peasant girls
In clanging warmth of dreamy gardens nostalgia sleeps in spiders webs
Boughs in the orchards are full of fresh juices that give sudden smell of ripeness
You'll go to gather golden aroma of warm trees' resin into your nostrils
In mellow, windy and sunny middays go and proclaim sacred birthgiving
Look at the rye leaves shining in sunlight, our daily bread of joyful summers
You may praise the passing blossom that turns into ripening fruits
Everything passes, nothing ends here, in the transforming warmth of the sun
At night you'll take the willow baskets so you can fill them with endless dreams
Go to celebrate red apple pickings and go to harvest ripeness of dreams
The moon is hanging in pear-tree branches like a golden boat on a Christmas tree
Lips of raspberries won't whisper legends about the hearts that bled at night.
Zuzanna Ginczanka

On a black day. A Cracow morning. They led her out and shot her dead