Pavarotti retains a kind of religious, mystical, commitment to his "work.”And he insists on referring to it as "work,” claiming: "You can always love your work; your profession, at best, you can exercise.”Few people realize that the joyful tenor, the man who is always smiling, is almost a cloistered monk . . .
Winter mysteries whispered into invisible doorways
to holy blackness,
They silently fled over white landscapes
Like a dancing child cloud drifting with music.
Poetry awakened while snowflakes played in the
fearful twilight,
White notes striking the deepening silence graced all,
Yet dead ears forgot the path to song.
Now, light and dark embrace in our homeland
Where sacred silence sings ...