I found Handel’s aria by chance again today
at the base of a decade of my papers
with annotations written back then
to guide my playing to her style
and the word ‘Hannah’ and the date
on the top right-hand corner
of the first page.
Eighteen and full of life
a fine soprano voice,
her older sister
was to be married
the following week
and she’d been asked to sing
and this piece was her choice.
I can see and hear her now as
we rehearsed in the cathedral,
late Saturday afternoon light
slanting through stained glass
touching her youth
with ancient colours
as she stood to sing.
Four hundred years since Rinaldo
was acclaimed and now again
via voice and organ
it reached into high gothic space,
the glory and tears of lamentation,
echoes touching us softly before
settling once more into silence.
A group of three friends
heard her sing,
full of beans and the joy of life
as she was, bantering.
She smiled to me
when we had finished,
waved with happy anticipation.
It was more of a thump than a bang
and then the sounds of a panicked crowd,
a little later the sirens, stricken disbelief,
the cordoning off
of the pedestrian crossing:
Lascia ch’io pianga
mia cruda sorte.*
*Let me weep
My cruel fate
No comments:
Post a Comment