#nessum dorma

[ultraclairedg]

The Tale of Turandot

There is a house. One enters it blind and comes out seeing. What is it?

This is possibly the oldest riddle ever and was written in Ancient Sumer around four thousand years ago. (Scroll down for the answer)

People, even during the most ancient times, like to test their logic and knowledge with riddles. We like making them for others to solve and we like solving them ourselves – thereby feeling clever and proud of our intellect.

In the fifth century BC, Sophocles gave us the Sphinx riddle in “Oedipus, the King”.

What goes on four legs in the morning, on two legs at noon, and on three legs in the evening?

These are just two examples of riddles that have come to us from ancient times. The use of imagination and fantasy is essential to riddles so it comes as no surprise to find them in many stories.

Let’s move forward in time a little to look at another example.

In the mid twelfth century, a poet was born in what is now modern-day Azerbaijan. He wrote a number of poems including one in which an ancient Persian ruler goes off in search of seven beauties. The beauties are each related to the seven known planets of that time. One of them is, of course, connected to Mars and she is supposedly Khutulun, the real daughter of a Central Asian nomadic ruler and a relation of Ghengis Khan and Kublai Khan. She is one tough lady. She hunts and wrestles and is known to have won many, many horses by wrestling and beating down prospective suitors. (If you Google her name, a number of articles will pop up, should you be interested)

Fast forward to mid eighteenth century Venice where a playwright for the Commedia dell’Arte uses this Persian poem as the basis for one of his plays. This play is much admired by the German poet and playwright Schiller, who decides to write his own version. The hunting and wrestling bad-ass nomad princess of the central Asian plains, however, is a bit too much for European sensibilities, so our heroine gets transformed into a cold Chinese princess who, instead of beating the crap out of her suitors, sets them riddles. If they can solve the riddles, they will win her hand; if they can’t, they die. She’s such a nice person, one wonders why anyone would fall in love with her in the first place?

Nevertheless, one nameless suitor eventually turns up who manages to solve the riddles, but this bitch of a princess still doesn’t want to marry him. So, good guy that he is, he gives her a chance. He tells her that if she can find out his name by dawn of the following day (sound familiar? Rumplestiltskin?), she can kill him and not marry him. In order to avoid the marriage, the princess orders all her subjects to stay up all night trying to find out his name or they will be beheaded in his stead. (What a lovely woman!) This is what the suitor sings while awaiting for the dawn.

None shall sleep, None shall sleep! Even you, oh Princess, In your cold room, Watch the stars, That tremble with love And with hope. But my secret is hidden within me, My name no one shall know, No... no... On your mouth, I will tell it, When the light shines. And my kiss will dissolve the silence that makes you mine! (No one will know his name and we must, alas, die.) Vanish, o night! Set, stars! Set, stars! At dawn, I will win! I will win! I will win!

You probably don’t recognise the English words unless you’re an opera buff but a lot of football fans will recognise this version of it as it suddenly became really famous in 1990 when super-famous opera singer Pavarotti ‘s version was used as a football World Cup theme.

As I mentioned before, if Turandot is such a terrible person, one wonders why anyone would want to marry her no matter how beautiful, rich or powerful she is, so some bright spark has come up with an answer for that conundrum too. In the 2021 Chinese film “The Curse of Turandot”, the princess wears three bracelets which were given to her when she was young. These bracelets are, of course, cursed so they turn this otherwise pleasant young lady into a homicidal hellcat. Although this film is in Chinese, the character of Prince Calaf, the one who sings Nessum Dorma in the opera, is played by American actor Dylan Sprouse. Needless to say, his voice was dubbed, but that’s very common in Chinese dramas where the voice you hear is often not the voice of the actor playing the role. This film wasn’t great so I wouldn’t recommend it even if you like other Chinese films but it does show how an idea that originated in the imagination of a 12th century poet, changed and altered to suit European sensibilities in the 19th entury and used as a football theme in the nineties can be brought right into the 21st century and given a new spin. Imagination is a wonderful thing!

(Riddle answers: A school and a person)

[imagine-loki]

Imagine Loki getting his kid to sleep by cuddling them in his arms and humming ‘Nessun Dorma’

[bellezzagrande]

Puccini - Turandot: Nessun Dorma

Performed by Jose Carreras

one of my favorite songs of all time <3

[itsyveinthesky]

This song will never not make me cry T_T

[culturevulturette]

Sweet dreams. I mean, SWEET DREAMS!!!

[cannedkopi]

New fic? HELL YEAH!!

Soooo glad to hear the enthusiasm 🥰🥰🥰

Hope it will live up to your expectations.

[laudys83]

The wait

Day 29: "Nessus dorma" by Giacomo PUCCINI

The city slumbered under a starless black sky. The night air, cold and damp, carried the scent of stone and wet wood. Further away, stray dogs rummaged through the trash, and the guards made their rounds without conviction. But here, in this narrow, deserted street, there was only silence.

Venec walked slowly, shoulders hunched, hands buried deep in his threadbare coat. He didn’t even know why he kept wandering like this. He could have gone back. Found a cot in some corner, closed his eyes, and waited for morning to grab him without mercy. But sleep was bullshit. Something for those with a quiet mind. He wasn’t one of them. Not tonight.

He ran a tired hand over his unshaven face, then stopped at the corner of an alley. There, just above him, a single window remained lit. A dim, flickering glow cast a yellowish light onto the dark stone. It was the only one. The rest of the city lay in darkness, like a goddamn mausoleum.

He smirked, joyless. "You’re awake, aren’t you...?" he muttered.

Nothing. Not a sound. But he knew Alzagar was there. Somewhere behind that damn window, in that room where he had shut himself away.

Venec leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. He could have gone inside. Pushed the door open, provoked him, forced him to respond. But this wasn’t a deal he was trying to strike, not some shady business where intimidation would be enough to make the other fold. Alzagar wasn’t a client, nor a debtor. Not even an adversary. Just a wall built too damn well, with those goddamn silences that said everything and nothing at once.

He pulled a knife from his belt and spun it between his fingers, out of habit. The blade caught a brief glint of light. He would have preferred opium, but that kind of luxury wasn’t always easy to come by. So he settled for the cold metal, the familiar weight in his palm.

"Tomorrow, everything plays out, huh...?"

A sharp gust whistled between the buildings, lifting grime and debris from the cobblestones. The torches flickered for a moment, casting dancing shadows along the walls. Venec didn’t move.

He could wait. All night if he had to.

But by morning, he would have his answer.

Good or bad, he wasn’t leaving without it.

L’attente

La ville sommeillait sous un ciel noir sans étoiles. L’air nocturne, froid et humide, portait l’odeur de la pierre et du bois mouillé. Plus loin, des chiens errants fouillaient dans les ordures, et les gardes faisaient leur ronde sans conviction. Mais ici, dans cette rue étroite et déserte, il n’y avait que le silence.

Venec marchait lentement, les épaules voûtées, les mains enfoncées dans son manteau élimé. Il ne savait même pas pourquoi il continuait d’errer comme ça. Il aurait pu rentrer. Trouver une paillasse dans un coin, fermer les yeux et attendre que le matin le cueille sans ménagement. Mais dormir, c’était une connerie. Un truc pour ceux qui avaient l’esprit tranquille. Lui, il n’en faisait pas partie. Pas cette nuit.

Il passa une main fatiguée sur son visage mal rasé, puis s’arrêta au coin d’une ruelle. Là, juste au-dessus de lui, une fenêtre restait allumée. Une lumière tamisée, tremblante, projetant une lueur jaune sur les pierres sombres. C’était la seule. Tout le reste de la ville était éteint, comme un putain de mausolée.

Il esquissa un sourire sans joie. « T’dois bien être réveillé, toi… » murmura-t-il.

Rien. Pas un bruit. Mais il savait qu’Alzagar était là. Quelque part derrière cette foutue fenêtre, dans cette chambre où il s’était enfermé.

Venec s’adossa contre un mur, croisant les bras. Il aurait pu entrer. Pousser la porte, le provoquer, l’obliger à lui répondre. Mais ce n’était pas un marché qu’il essayait de négocier, pas un coup foireux où l’intimidation suffirait à faire plier l’autre. Alzagar n’était pas un client, ni un débiteur. Ce n’était même pas un adversaire. Juste un mur trop bien bâti, avec ses putains de silences qui disaient tout et rien à la fois.

Il sortit un couteau de sa ceinture et le fit tourner entre ses doigts, par habitude. La lame refléta un éclat fugace de lumière. Il aurait préféré de l’opium, mais ce genre de luxe n’était pas toujours facile à trouver. Alors, il se contenta du métal froid, du poids familier contre sa paume.

« Demain, tout s’joue, hein… ? »

Une brise glaciale siffla entre les bâtisses, soulevant la crasse et les détritus sur les pavés. Les torches tremblèrent un instant, projetant des ombres dansantes sur les murs. Venec ne bougea pas.

Il pouvait attendre. Toute la nuit s’il le fallait. Mais demain matin, il aurait sa réponse. Bonne ou mauvaise, il ne partirait pas sans savoir.

Challenge by @monthlywritingchallenges

[mindyourownmadness]