The Opera

The opera, the opera! Hold up your dresses and jump out quickly Ladies, Welcome to the opera Bare arms and shoulders Brilliant uniforms Pearls and silk Glittering before our eyes Feminine envy A whole crowd of memories Desires and emotions Natasha, smooth your gown Natasha, smooth your gown Looking in the glass I see I am pretty Not a girl anymore I've never felt like this before Hundreds of eyes Looking at my bare arms My bare arms and neck My bare arms and shoulders The two remarkably pretty girls Had not been seen in Moscow in many years Everybody knew vaguely Of Natasha's engagement One of the finest matches in all of Russia Look, there's Alexey, home from the war at last He has changed Dear me, Michael Kirilovich has grown still stouter! There's Boris and Julie, engaged And Anna Mikhaylovna— what a headdress she has on! And is that Natasha? And is that Natasha? And is that Natasha? They're looking at me, They're talking about me— They all like me so much The women envious The men calming their jealousy Announcing Fedya Dolokhov He dominates Moscow's Most brilliant young men He stands in full view Well aware he's attracting attention Yet as much at ease As though he were in his own room Dolokhov was in the Caucasus And he killed the Shah's brother! Now all the Moscow ladies are mad about him Dolokhov the assassin! Announcing Countess Hélène Bezukhova The queen of society Beautiful, barely clothed Plump bare shoulders And much-exposed neck Round which she wears A double string of pearls Hélène and Dolokhov, arm in arm Pierre the cuckold sits at home Pierre the cuckold sits at home, The poor man No, I am enjoying myself At home this evening Oh, that neck Oh, those pearls So beautiful What a charming young girl So enchanting I blush scarlet Countess Bezukhova, Pierre's wife Have you been here long? And where is dear Pierre? He never used to forget us Yes Pierre, that good man A little sad, a little stout He must come visit us I will implore him to do so There's a woman one should stay far away from Now, Natasha, The curtain rises The curtain rises Everyone in the boxes And the stalls became silent All the men, old and young, In uniform and evening dress All the women in the hall With gems on their bare flesh Turned their whole attention With curiosity to the stage Grotesque and amazing I cannot follow the opera Or even listen to the music I see painted cardboard Queerly dressed actors Moving and singing so strangely in the lights So false and unnatural I'm ashamed and amused And everyone else seems oblivious Yes, everyone feigns delight And feeling the flood of brilliant lights, The warm perfumed air heated by the crowd, Natasha, little by little, Began to pass into a state of intoxication Oh, I'd tickle you all if I could Oh, I'd tickle you all if I could Oooh And then A rush of cold air An exceptionally handsome man walked in With a confident yet courteous air This was Hélène's brother Anatole Kuragin He moved with a swagger Which would have been ridiculous Had he not been so good-looking And though it was the middle of the act He walked right down the aisle His sword and spurs jangling His handsome perfumed head held high And he looked right at Natasha... Mais charmante! And he took his place In the front row, Next to Dolokhov How handsome he is How intoxicating In the second act, there were tombstones The moon over the footlights Horns and contrabass Black cloaks and daggers in their hands I turn around again and our eyes meet He gazes straight into my eyes He is talking about me Candles burning A crimson throne The Tsar wails a mournful tune They all wave their arms And everybody cheers "Bravo, bravo!" Every time I look at him He's looking at me Every time I look at him He's looking at me Every time I look at him A terrible noise, a clatter in the crowd A storm of chromatic scales And diminished sevenths With rapturous faces, Everyone was shouting, Screaming and shouting, "Bravo!" Bravo, bravo Bravo, bravo Bravo, bravo And then A rush of cold air, And Anatole entered the box