Текст Pierre Natasha – The Private And Intimate Life Of The House

Bolkonsky:
I’ve aged
I’ve aged so very much
I fall asleep at the table

I’m full of childish vanities
I forget things
And I live in the past
I’ve aged so very much

People enjoy me though
I come in for tea in my old-fashioned coat and powdered wig
And I tell stories
And utter scathing critiques
This stern, shrewd old man
A relic of the past century
With his gentle daughter
Such a majestic and agreeable spectacle

Mary:
But besides the couple of hours during which we have guests
There are also twenty-two hours in the day
During which the private and intimate life of the house continues

Bolkonsky:
Bring my me slippers

Mary:
Yes father, yes father

Bolkonsky:
Bring me my wine

Mary:
Yes father, yes father

Bolkonsky:

Mary:
No father, no father
And I have no friends
No, never go anywhere
Never invited
For who would take care of him

Bolkonsky:
I can hurt you

Mary & Bolkonsky:
I can hurt you

Mary:
But I never ever ever ever would
No father
I love you father

And time moves on
And my fate slips past
And nothing ever happens to me
And Countess Natalya Rostova is coming for tea

Natasha:
I know they’ll like me
Everyone has always liked me

Bolkonsky:
Natasha is young
And worthless and dumb

Mary:
And time moves on
And my fate slips past
Is this all I’ll make of my life?
Will I never be happy?
Will I never be anyone’s wife?

Bolkonsky:
Ah, what’s this? A young suitor?
Ah, come in, come in
But don’t sit down, don’t sit down
I’m cold to you
Yes I’m mean to you

Now be gone, be gone be gone!
And don’t come back!

Oh, maybe I’ll marry someone myself
Some cheap French thing
Oh that offends you does it?
Ah, come in my dear
Come in my dear, come in

Mary:
And he draws her to him
And he kisses her hand
Embraces her affectionately
And I flush and run out of the room

Bolkonsky:
Come back here
Let an old man have his fun

Mary:
But she’s just using you papa
Wants your money papa!
To take advantage of your weakness like that
It’s disgusting
My voice breaks

Bolkonsky:
It’s my money and I’ll throw it where I want
Not at you!
And not at Andrey’s harlot!

Insolent girl!
Insolent girl!
Where
Where

Where are my glasses?
Where are they?
Where are my glasses?

Oh God
Oh God I’m frightened
Oh God I’ve aged so very much

Where are my glasses?
Where are my glasses?

Mary:
They are there upon his head
The pride of sacrifice
Gathers in my soul

And he forgets things
He falls asleep at the table
His napkin drops to the floor
His shaking head
Sinks over his plate

He is old and feeble
And I dare to judge him
I disgust myself
I disgust myself