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
I tell stories
And utter scathing critiques
This old-fashioned house
With its gigantic mirrors and powdered footmen
And this stern, shrewd old man
A relic of the past century
With his gentle daughter
Is a majestic and agreeable spectacle
But besides the couple 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
Bring me my slippers!
Yes, father, yes, father
Bring me my wine!
Yes, father, yes, father
Oh father
And I never go anywhere
Never invited
For who would take care of him
Who would take care
And I have no friends
No, no, no
Girl, all my friends are dead
No one
All my friends are dead
Time is moving
It's now or never
My fate is slipping past me
Silence! Silence!
Yes, father, yes, father
You shut your damn mouth girl
Shut your damn mouth
I can hurt you
Yes, father, yes, father
I can hurt you
But I never, ever, ever, ever would
This is just how it is
It's just how he is
I'm always to blame
He could beat me
Or treat me like a dog
Make me fetch wood or water
And it's just how it is
Oh father, I love you father
Time is moving
It's now or never
I've abandoned the hope of getting married
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?
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
Wipe away your tears, girl
I don't want your tears
Oh, that horrible woman
Vile inhuman
She's 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!
It's my money, my money,
Mine all mine!
Insolent girl!
Insolent girl!
Where—
Where—
Where—
Where are my glasses?
Where, where are they? Where are my glasses?
Oh, God—
Oh, God, I'm frightened
Oh, God, I've aged
I've aged so very much
Where are my glasses?
Where are they? Where?
Where are my glasses?
Where are they?
Where—
Where are my glasses?!
There are there upon his head
They are there upon his head
The pride of sacrifice
Gathers in my soul
They are there upon his head
And he forgets things
He lives in the past
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

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