For this glorious luxury of admiring you

Modifié le : 2019/08/04

Tonight, I have my singing les­son. Like any pas­sion that sets in, I think only of that, even if, in real­i­ty, I face many obsta­cles, includ­ing this sec­ond one that I have to learn. Per la Glo­ria d’ado­rarvi (For the glo­ry of lov­ing you) is a beau­ti­ful ritor­nel­lo from Gio­van­ni Bat­tista Bononcini’s opera Grisel­da.

The text reads as follows :

For the glo­ry (I would say glo­ri­ous lux­u­ry) of admir­ing you
I wish to love you
Oh dear lights (sloes)
To love I will suffer
Yes, yes, I will suffer !
I will suffer,
I will love you,
Dear lights

With­out hope of delights,
Vain affection,
It is so overwhelming.
But your combs so soft (your hon­ey eyes),
How could I not look at them ?
How could I not love you ?
I will suffer,
I will love you,
Dear lights

For the record, I stum­bled in a dat­ing site upon a pho­to of a man whose eyes would melt Bene­dict XVI’s old gonads and the dried tits of the nuns who are asleep at his feet. That is more or less the feel­ing I must adopt for this piece, when, eat­en away by a move­ment called not tramway, but desire, one comes to throw all will into the garbage of insan­i­ty. How­ev­er, it seems to me that my heart is sus­pi­cious now. A lit­tle old, the guy, to pre­tend to be the lover with tes­ti­cles ready to launch the assault. But we can act, espe­cial­ly at our ages, can’t we ? The dif­fi­cul­ty is elsewhere.

The piece, very har­mo­nious, as judged by Pavarot­ti’s video, is sim­ple and chal­leng­ing to inter­pret. I’ve been break­ing my voice there for a week. First of all, I took it too slow­ly, I pressed my notes too hard. Noth­ing light, noth­ing friend­ly. And then, these notes, beyond the upper C zone, are very uncom­fort­able for me. And I real­ize that Pavarot­ti takes them almost in a head voice when he has to do them in pianis­si­mo. No won­der ! But hey, don’t com­pare your­self to this great singer either. I’ll push my hoarse vocal cords as I can !

How can I give you glo­ry, beau­ti­ful melody, for I will suf­fer from try­ing the impos­si­ble to seduce you ?

I’m look­ing for myself in all this. Then, I am still wait­ing for a def­i­nite answer from a pub­lish­er. No report ? If… Every­thing sud­den­ly seems frag­ile to me, my voice breaks, I want too much, I don’t relax, it only seems to be due to pious wish­es, all this, these beau­ti­ful airs, these hand­some past youth, these promis­es that take time to mature. And yet, this insis­tent look that exis­tence gives us. This life, these beau­ti­ful eyes, that I will suf­fer from lov­ing them, because, in their finite­ness, there is no glo­ry but to admire them…