The Private and Intimate Life of the House

I've aged

I've aged so very much

I fall asleep at the table

My napkin drops to the floor

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

But besides the couple of hours during which we have guests

There are also 22 hours in the day

During which the private and intimate life of the house continues

Bring my me slippers (yes father, yes father)

Bring me my wine (yes father, yes father)

If you're not too busy fiddling with your incense and icons (no father, no father)

And I have no friends, no, never go anywhere

Never invited for who would take care of him

I can hurt you, I can hurt you

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

I know they'll like me

Everyone has always liked me

Natasha is young and worthless and dumb

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?

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!

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

And he draws her to him

And he kisses her hand

Embraces her affectionately

And I flush and run out of the room

Come back here

Let an old man have his fun

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

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?

Where are my glasses?

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