I heard something wonderful this afternoon.  It had a dramatic back-story:  the singer had been ill this year, and kept canceling concerts.  People wondered anxiously whether she was going to cancel this one.  Was she still sick?  Was she dying?

The music:  settings of glowing Pablo Neruda poems by the singer's adoring husband. 

The conductor:  scarcely moving, beloved by the crowd, conjuring astonishing sounds from the players.

Okay, okay:  The piece was Neruda Songs by Peter Lieberson, the singer was Lorraine Hunt Lieberson (who started off as a violist but has gone on to much better things), the conductor was James Levine, and the orchestra was the Boston Symphony.  Everything came together for an unforgettable span of time this afternoon.  Hunt Lieberson was luminous.  Before the applause there was a time of silence that seemed to go on forever.

The BSO will repeat this program (totally delightful programming, too:  Til Eulenspiegel and Mahler 4) on Monday the 28th at Carnegie Hall.  If I could, I'd go hear it again.