ARIA
The Cobweb Inn is much the same as when
I came here last some 15 years ago -
low-ceilinged, dimlit, crowded. As I sit
with Chris, Anita, Clive, my sister Liz,
we pour out memories, like waterfalls,
recalling, with near-perfect memory,
mad antics, people, places. And the drinks
just seem to come. And go. Then come again.
Behind us, far too loud, a Country band
is dishing up the usual Muzak,
unheard around our table, mercifully,
as Chris recounts his story of the fish.
And then a shift occurs across the room
as noise gives way to quiet and I see
known faces gaze at others, listening
to something I’d not noticed had begun.
The Country singer, unaccompanied,
is singing Nessun Dorma and, for once,
receives responsive silence for his song
and us, a sudden late-night sobering,
not because we love the classical
nor even that the singer is so great,
but something in this grace-filled aria
has made the hairs stand up on all our necks.
Trevor Hewett
jollyweez
Yes - this aria causes that for many, especially when Luciano Pavarotti sings it. A cruel queen, Turandot, in China, will not be able to name her suitor at dawn. She orders that none shall sleep until she knows his name, for if she learns it, then he must die. He sings Nessun Dorma ("Let no-one sleep") looking at the stars through the bars of his jail. He wins her hand at dawn for no-one there knows he is a Prince in disguise and his name is "Love." Her cruelty melts into love for him and 'all's well that ends well!'
Another wonderful memory from Trevor Hewett!