"None shall sleep", the aria that opens Act Three of Puccini's opera Turandot.

The unknown prince has correctly answered the three riddles that the Princess Turandot asks all her suitors before having them beheaded for failure. She is so distraught by this that the unknown prince makes her a counter-offer: if she can guess his name by morning, he will free her from her oath.

For readers at home his name is Calaf. Calaf.

Act Three begins with the heralds:

Così comanda Turandot:
"Questa notte nessun dorma in Pekino!"

Thus commands Turandot:
"Tonight no-one sleeps in Beijing!"

Then distant voices sing, like a lament:
Nessun dorma! nessun dorma!
The heralds continue:
"Pena la morte, il nome dell'Ignoto
sia rivelato prima del mattino!"

"On pain of death, the name of the Unknown One
is to be revealed before morning!"

The distant voices echo:
Pena la morte! Pena la morte!
The heralds repeat "Questa notte nessun dorma in Pekino!" and the distant voices re-echo "Nessun dorma! Nessun dorma!". Now the tenor gets his big moment. He sings:
Nessun dorma!... Tu pure, O Principessa,
nella tua fredda stanza
guardi le stelle
che tremano d'amore e di speranza!
Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me,
il nome mio nessun saprà!
No, no, sulla tua bocca lo dirò
quando la luce splenderà!
Ed il mio bacio scioglierà il silenzio
che ti fa mia...!

None shall sleep!... Even you, O Princess,
in your cold room
you're looking at the stars
that are trembling with love and hope!
But my mystery is shut within me,
my name none shall know!
No, no, on your lips I'll say it
when the light shines out!
And my kiss will break the silence
that makes you mine...!

Women's voices, mysterious and remote, come in with:
Il nome suo nessun saprà...
E noi dovrem, ahimè, morir, morir...!

No-one will know his name...
And we must, ah me, die, die...!

Calaf now swells to his triumphant climax:
Dilegua, O notte...!
Tramontate, stelle!
All'alba vincerò!

Dissolve, O night...!
Set, stars!
At the dawn I'll win!

And of course he does and love blossoms and all that, and the slave girl Liù gives her life to keep his secret, not that the stuck-up selfish git cares.

And if you're sitting there thinking, hang on, phone a friend is one thing, but she's not proposing to kill every single person in Beijing just because they don't know a complete stranger's name, then let me tell you our Turandot is perfectly capable of it.

The words were by Giuseppe Adami and Renato Simone.

Oh, and you might notice it hardly refers to football at all.