a sad day...

it definitely is a sad day for the world, because if there's one thing i enjoy more than sewing, it's music and today, we lost someone who to me, was one of the great singers and performers of our time, luciano pavarotti.

ROME - Luciano Pavarotti, whose vibrant high C's and ebullient showmanship made him the most beloved and celebrated tenor since Caruso and one of the few opera singers to win crossover fame as a popular superstar, died Thursday. He was 71.

His manager, Terri Robson, told the AP in an e-mailed statement that Pavarotti died at his home in Modena, Italy, at 5 a.m. local time. Pavarotti had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last year and underwent further treatment in August.

"The Maestro fought a long, tough battle against the pancreatic cancer which eventually took his life. In fitting with the approach that characterised his life and work, he remained positive until finally succumbing to the last stages of his illness," the statement said.

By ALESSANDRA RIZZO, Associated Press Writer

i remember sitting in my room and playing his operas, trying to figure out what he was saying to whomever he was singing to, in my first days of learning italian. i came to enjoy his voice and talent so much and i bought his old lp's with clips of his performances from some of the more popular operas. my favorite being, la boheme "che gelida manina":

Che gelida manina! Se la lasci riscaldar.
Cercar che giova? Al buio non si trova.
Ma per fortuna e una notte di luna,
e qui la luna l'abbiiamo vicina.
Aspetti, signorina, le diro con due parole chi son,
chi son, e che faccio, come vivo, Vuole?
Chi son? Chi son? Son un poeta.
Che cosa faccio? Scrivo. E come vivo? Vivo.
In poverta mia lieta scialo da gran signore
rimi ed inni d'amore.
Per sogni e per chimere e per castelli in aria
l'anima ho milionaria.
Talor del mio forziere ruban tutti
i gioielle due ladri: gli occhi belli.
V'entrar con voi pur ora ed i miei sogni usati,
ed i bei sogni miei tosto si dileguar!
Ma il furto non m'accora poiche,
poiche v'ha preso stanza la speranza.
Or che mi conoscete parlate voi.
Deh parlate. Chi siete? Vi piaccia dir?

translation:
How cold your little hand is! Will you let me warm it for you?
Why bother looking? It's dark, and we won't find it.
It's our good luck, though, this night's filled with moonlight,
up here the moonlight could rest on our shoulders.
Please wait, my dear young lady, and I will quickly tell you
who stands before you, and what I do,
how I make my living. May I?
Who am I? What am I? I am a poet.
What keeps me busy? Writing! And what do I live on? Nothing!
In poverty I'm cheerful, I am a prince who squanders
arias and couplets of longing.
And as for hopes and dreams of love and castles-in-the-air,
Miss, I am a millionaire!
My fortress could be broken in, robbed clean of the fine jewels
I store; if the thieves were eyes like yours.
And now that I have seen you, all of my lovely dreaming,
all of the sweetest dreams I've dreamt, quickly have slipped away.
This theft does not upset me, because such treasures
mean nothing now that I'm rich with sweet hope!
And now that you have met me, I ask you please,
Tell me, lady, who you are, I ask you please!

now, puccini was a poet in every sense that shakespeare was. pavarotti brought, if not life to puccini's words, then an amazing force that seems to penetrate the deepest reaches of your heart and soul.

well maybe only to me. but i guess it's time once again to play an aria, for him, and craft...

i too, am a millionaire...