Letters

In nineteenth century Russia we write letters
We write letters
We put down in writing
What is happening in our minds.

Once it's on the paper we feel better
We feel better
It's like some kind of clarity
When the letter's done and signed.

Dear Andrey
Dear old friend
How goes the war?
Do we march on the French splendidly?
Do our cannons crack and cry?
Do our bullets whistle and sing?
Does the air reek with smoke?
I wish I were there
With death at my heels.

Dolokhov is recovering
He will be all right, the good man
It should have been me
I am a most ridiculous man.

And Natasha is in town
I hear she is more beautiful than ever
How I envy you and your happiness.

Here at home
I drink and read and drink and read and drink
And I fill my mind with rot
While my heart is empty
And I've been studying the Cabal
And I've calculated the number of the beast
It is Napoleon
I will kill him one day
He is not a great man
None of us are great men
We are just caught in the wave of history
Nothing matters
Everything matters
It's all the same
If only I could not see it
This dreadful, terrible it.

In nineteenth century Russia we write letters
We write letters
We put down in writing
What is happening in our minds.

Dear Andrey
What more can I write
After all that has happened?
What am I to do if I love him and the other one too?
Must I break it off?
These terrible questions.

I see nothing but the candle in the mirror
No visions of the future
So lost and alone
And what of Princess Mary.

Dear Natasha
I am in deep despair at the misunderstanding there is between us
Whatever my father's feelings might be
I beg you to believe that I cannot help loving you
He's a tired old man and must be forgiven
Please, come see us again.

Dear Princess Mary
Oh what am I to write!
How do I choose
What do I do
I shall never be happy again
These terrible questions
I'm so alone here
So alone in here
And I see nothing.

I see nothing but the candle in the mirror
No visions of the future
So lost and alone.

In nineteenth century Russia we write letters
We write letters
We put down in writing
What is happening in our minds.

Dear Natalie
A love letter
A love letter
A love letter
A letter from him, from the man that I love.

A letter which I composed
A love letter
A love letter...

Natalie Natalie Natalie
I must love you or die
Natalie Natalie Natalie
If you love me say yes
And I will come and steal you away
Steal you out of the dark
Natalie Natalie Natalie
I want nothing more.

Natalie Natalie Natalie
I must love you or die
Natalie Natalie Natalie
If you love me say yes
And I will come and steal you away
Steal you out of the dark
Natalie Natalie Natalie
I want nothing more.

Just say yes
Just say yes
Just say yes.

Yes, yes, I love him!
How else could I have his letter in my hand?
I read it twenty times
Thirty times, forty times!
Each and every word
I love him, I love him.

(Natasha sleeps. Sonya arrives and reads Anatole''s letter.)