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
