We're back!
6.00 pm, Sunday, 27 March 2022 (Doors open 5.30)
Adey Grummet will host another dazzling evening, welcoming us all back to Stoke Newington's legendary Opera Cabaret. Another evening of song and great company
Click here for tickets @ £20.00 (£15.00 children and Mildmay Club members)
This is a slightly smaller venue than usual. We will allocate seats to ensure that parties are seated together.
Further information from farqdm@gmail.com
07717298676
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While waiting for the real thing, our dog Raffy has been busy.
Click here to see his thoughts about Opera:
If you'd like a hard copy, we're selling them for £8.00 so that we can make a donation of £3.00 a copy to HELP MUSICIANS. Copies from Farquhar at info@operacabaret.co.uk
These are difficult times for musicians, a great many of whom are self employed. Help Musicians provides a great means of supporting them. If you would like to help, please click on this link which will take you to their donation page:
In the meantime, keep well and please enjoy Nessun Dorma below!!!
Va, Pensiero
Va, pensiero, sull'ali dorate.
Va, ti posa sui clivi, sui coll,
Ove olezzano tepide e molli
L'aure dolci del suolo natal!
Del Giordano le rive saluta,
Di Sionne le torri atterrate.
O mia Patria, sì bella e perduta!
O membranza sì cara e fatal!
Arpa d'or dei fatidici vati,
Perché muta dal salice pendi?
Le memorie del petto riaccendi,
Ci favella del tempo che fu!
O simile di Solima ai fati,
Traggi un suono di crudo lamento;
O t'ispiri il Signore un concento
Che ne infonda al patire virtù
Che ne infonda al patire virtù
Che ne infonda al patire virtù!
Va, pensiero, sull'ali dorate.
Va, ti posa sui clivi, sui coll,
Ove olezzano tepide e molli
L'aure dolci del suolo natal!
Del Giordano le rive saluta,
Di Sionne le torri atterrate.
O mia Patria, sì bella e perduta!
O membranza sì cara e fatal!
Arpa d'or dei fatidici vati,
Perché muta dal salice pendi?
Le memorie del petto riaccendi,
Ci favella del tempo che fu!
O simile di Solima ai fati,
Traggi un suono di crudo lamento;
O t'ispiri il Signore un concento
Che ne infonda al patire virtù
Che ne infonda al patire virtù
Che ne infonda al patire virtù!
Dearest homeland, my thoughts fly towards thee;
Wings of gold bear them on to journey’s ending,
Where the sweet scented breezes are blending
In the Green Hills and vales of our land!
Ah to stand by the banks of the Jordan
And to see Sion’s woeful desolation!
O dear land, once the joy of our nation
Now forever lost by fate’s cruel hand.
Golden harps of the prophets and seers of old
Why so silently hang on the willow?
Lift your voice, stir our hearts, let the story be told
Of the times now so long gone and past.
O Jerusalem, blessed city,
When will grief and lamenting be over?
Let our song rise to thee, great Jehovah
Hear the voice of thy people at last,
Hear the voice of thy people at last!