Seventy-Six Trombones

Seventy-Six Trombones

Seventy-Six Trombones
Seventy-six trombones led the big parade, With a hundred & ten cornets close at hand. They were followed by rows and rows, Of the finest virtuosos, The cream of every famous band. Seventy-six trombones caught the morning sun, With a hundred & ten cornets right behind. There were over a thousand reeds, Srpinging up like weeds, There were horns of every shape & kind. There were copper bottom timpani in horse platoons, Thundering, thundering, all along the way. Double bell euphoniums and big bassoons, Each bassoon having its big, fat say. There were fifty mounted cannon in the battery, Thundering, thundering, louder than before. Clarinets of every size, And trumpets who'd improvise A full octave higher than the score! Seventy-six trombones hit the counterpoint, While a hundred and ten cornets blazed away. To the rhythm of Harch! Harch! Harch! All the kids began to march, And they're marching still right today!
Seventy-Six Trombones
sex sonat et decies septem quae turba tubarum! ~~pompa decem et centum cornua iuncta tenet. agminibus densis gnarissima turma secuta est, ~~Amphion, Orpheus, plurimus ipse Linus. sex iubar et decies septem rubefecit Eoum; ~~ecce decem et centum cornua pone tubis! mille instant calami, loliis simulata caterva, ~~buccina cum lituis, cornua, concha, tubae. tympana tunc equitum resonabant aere profundo, ~~quo tonitru resonans omne tonabat iter. fistula – iam duplicata rudent euphonia! - opimo ~ sermones duplicat gutture quaeque suos. quina decem tormenta, tonantia fulmina belli, ~~raucius augebant, raucius usque sonos; maxima vel maior, minor atque minuta cicuta; ~~classica conatu bis quater Icario; sex dant et decies septem contraria chordae; ~~vi flant undecies cornua dena melos. vadere cum pueris cunctae coepere puellae, ~vadere praesenti queis placet usque die!
My translation into Latin

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

DO RE MI

DO RE MI

English by Oscar Hammerstein II from 'The Sound of Music'. Latin by me.
DO RE MI
Let's start at the very beginning A very good place to start When you read, you begin with A-B-C When you sing, you begin with Do-Re-Mi Do, a deer, a female deer Re, a drop of golden sun Mi, a name, I call myself Fa, a long, long way to run So, a needle pulling thread La, a note to follow So Ti, a drink with jam and bread That will bring us back to Do. When you know the notes to sing You can sing most anything.
DO RE MI
incipiamus in incepto: valet optima origo. ~~alpha et beta legis, mox quoque gamma notas. imus cerva gradus, muliebris bestia, chordis; ~~aureolo sequitur guttula sole, iubar. tum mihi me nomen, quo me revocante vocabor; ~~currere fas longe, cui via longa, procul. dein sutoris acus, trahitur cum sutile filum; ~~excipiens caecus proximus instat acum. dein thea adest, pani coctis cum fructibus apta; ~~cerva iterum inventa conficiemus iter. tempore quo disces septem discrimina vocum, ~~omnia quam sollers carmina paene canes!
in pratis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=drnBMAEA3AM in stratis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLm07s8fnzM

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

Cheering Thought After 200 Years

Ermutigung nach 200 Jahren

Reiner Kunze (1933)

(auf dem heimweg von einem orgelkonzert: going home from an organ recital)
Ermutigung nach 200 Jahren
Zu füßen gottes, wenn gott füße hat, zu füßen gottes sitzt bach, nicht der magistrat von leipzig
Cheering Thought After 200 Years
At god's feet, if god has feet, at god's feet sits bach, not the leipzig magistrate https://www.planetlyrik.de/reiner-kunze-auf-eigene-hoffnung/2015/09/
Cati Patel brought it for Insead in London, March 2025. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2dlq0PfWnXE

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

More poems by Reiner Kunze...

Sing them no more, my beauty

Ne poi, karavitsa, pri mne

Alexander Pushkin (1799-1837)

6 Romances Op. 4: Music: Sergei Rachmaninoff
Ne poi, karavitsa, pri mne
Ne poi, krasavitsa, pri mne Ty pesen Gruzii pechalnoi; Napominayut mne one Druguyu zhizn i bereg dalnyi Uvy, napominayut mne Tvoi zhestokie napevy I step, i noch – i pri lune Cherty dalyokoy, miloi devï Ya prizrak milyi, rokovoi, Tebya uvidev, zabyvayu; No ty poyosh i predo mnoi Ego ya vnov voobrazhayu. Ne poi, krasavitsa, pri mne Ty pesen Gruzii pechalnoi: Napominayut mne Druguyu zhizn i bereg dalnoi. Не пой, красавица, при мне Ты песен Грузии печальной: Напоминают мне онe Другую жизнь и берег дальный. Увы! напоминают мне Твои жестокие напевы И степь, и ночь — и при луне Черты далёкой, бедной девы!.. Я призрак милый, роковой, Тебя увидев, забываю; Но ты поёшь — и предо мной Его я вновь воображаю. Не пой, красавица, при мне Ты песен Грузии печальной: Напоминают мне оне Другую жизнь и берег дальный.
Sing them no more, my beauty
Sing them no more, my beauty, Sad Georgian songs, no more, Reminding me of another Life, and a distant shore. Your cruel tunes remind me Of the steppe and of the night And of my darling far away And her face in the moonlight. That phantom kind and fateful… I see you; I forget. But when you sing, that vision Appears before me yet. Sing them no more, my beauty, Sad Georgian songs, no more, Reminding me of another Life, and a distant shore.

Translation: Copyright © Timothy Adès

More poems by Alexander Pushkin...