To opera buffs, Nessun Dorma has always been one of the great arias, but my, how the song’s profile was raised by its use as the theme song to the 1990 World Cup. That new audience, numbering in the scores of millions, associated the piece inextricably with the one voice, that of Italian tenor, Luciano Pavarotti. Many artists have recorded their own versions of the song – before and since – but it’s Pavarotti who is generally credited with performing the ultimate version of this song. The performance I embed below, from a show in Paris in 1994, shows exactly why it’s a justified claim. Pavarotti delivers an emotionally charged and hauntingly beautiful piece of musical theatre. Check out the emotion on his face at around the 2.40 to 2.50 mark.

Incidentally, for me, Nessun Dorma does not benefit from an English translation or an understanding of the song’s contextual meaning in Giacomo Puccini’s Turandot (though it concerns a prince, Calaf, and his attempts to win the hand of Princess Turandot), so I prefer to preserve its enigmatic majesty by ignoring its meaning and just letting it be. It’s truly powerful on its own.

Back in 2009, a few days after my mum’s funeral, my family and I, after a visit up to Blyth and on our way back, called into Durham Cathedral, significant for my mum’s stonemason dad having worked on this fine building. It turned out that it happened to be the day before Bobby Robson’s memorial service, and they were rehearsing for it as we arrived. Unsurprisingly, Nessun Dorma had been chosen to be a part of the memorial service (performed I believe, by vocal trio, Tenors Unlimited). Thus, in one of the world’s great cathedrals, and still raw from my bereavement, I heard the resounding strains of Nessun Dorma. An unforgettable moment.

Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!
Tu pure, oh Principessa
Nella tua fredda stanza
Guardi le stelle che tremano
D’amore e di speranza

Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me
Il nome mio nessun saprà
No, no, sulla tua bocca lo dirò
Quando la luce splenderà
Ed il mio bacio scioglierà
Il silenzio che ti fa mia

(ll nome suo nessun saprà
E noi dovrem, ahimè, morir, morir)

Dilegua, oh notte!
Tramontate, stelle!
Tramontate, stelle!
All’alba vincerò!
Vincerà!
Vincerò!