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Original Broadway Chorus of Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812 - Topic
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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!
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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 Andreyโ
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 is a tired old man and must be forgiven
Please, come see us again
Dear Princess Maryโ
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
A love letter
A love letter
A love letter
A love letter
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
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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
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