What would Verdi do?

I read somewhere that Verdi disapproved of Puccini’s choice to make the subject of Cavaradossi’s final aria his desperation about never having sex again having his romance with Tosca interrupted. Verdi thought that in such hour Cavaradossi should be saying farewell to and seeking solace in his art. The thing is, Puccini had to stick to what inspired him, and the result speaks for itself—the last thing any opera lover would want is replacing “E lucevan le stelle” with anything else. It’s not that Verdi’s idea wasn’t good, but Puccini’s idea just worked better for him—to have a chance at reaching people, an artist has to be authentic to their own self, and from Puccini’s biography we know all too well what floated his boat. However, I thought that, as an exercise in libretto writing, it’d be both fun and instructive to write an alternative text of this aria that would be more to Verdi’s taste, so I did. It’s unrhymed, just as the one it does not seek to replace (note to self—write a post about rhyming in operatic libretti). It is in English—while I’m proud of my intermediate Italian, it is not strong enough for this, though I was tempted to try. So here goes:

Alternative text to Cavaradossi’s aria

By Maxim Samarov

Just yesterday I was on top of the world

Happily in love, my art flourishing, my heart light,

Yet today I find myself on the brink of death

With my recent happiness but a distant dream.

All that’s left for me is to face death with dignity—

Yet my knees shake, cold sweat covers my brow;

My spirit is strong, but my body betrays me.

Where do I turn for help in this dreadful hour?

My art! You’ve always been my rock and my refuge,

My paints and brushes my best friends.

In my mind, I can enter Sant’Andrea della Valle

And finish my work, stroke by stroke.

The deep blues, the rich reds, the glittering yellows,

The light, the shadow, the harmony of figures,

O my art! You are my life and my legacy!

Even as I turn into dust, you live on—

Help me now to face my destiny

As I await the fatal sunrise.

Oh, who am I kidding, I had to make an Italian version. I am sure it is profoundly flawed, both grammatically and in word choices (full disclosure—it started with Google Translate and then I improved it, or at least I think I did), and I’d need to shorten many of the lines if I actually intended for it to be set to music, but here it is.

Proprio ieri ero in cima della vita,

Il mio amore al fianco, la mia arte fiorente, il mio core sereno;

Eppure oggi mi ritrovo sull'orlo della morte

E la mia felicità é un sogno lontano.

L'unica cosa che mi resta è affrontare la morte con decoro,

Eppure le mie ginocchia tremano, il sudore freddo mi copre la fronte;

Il mio spirito è forte ma il mio corpo mi tradisce—

A chi mi rivolgerò per aiuto in quest'ora tremenda?

La mia arte! Sei sempre stata il mio rifugio,

I colori, i pennelli i miei migliori amici;

Nella mia mente posso entrare in Sant'Andrea della Valle

E finire il mio lavoro, tratto per tratto.

Gli azzurri profondi, i rossi ricchi, i gialli scintillanti,

La luce, l'ombra, l'armonia delle figure,

Oh mia arte! Sei la mia vita e la mia eredità!

Anche se mi trasformo in polvere, vivrai—

Aiutami ad affrontare il mio destino

Mentre sto aspettando l’alba fatale.