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