Люди, попавшие в шторм [Ludi, popavshie v shtorm] [English translation]

They showed your movie on nighttime tv

About the people who got caught in a storm,

About emotions that had no eyes.

Friends and neighbours laughed and cried so much,

And thought it was about them.

They didn't know it was about us.

I was so surprised when you'd said in an interview

That you'd read my book

and had been so impressed by it

that you'd based your screenplay on it.

It's a pity you weren't the one to write the book,

After all, you had seen the same dream.

My harrowing work turned out to be quite a bestseller,

Even though there are many other books, no less strange than mine.

People recognise themselves in my characters,

Even though I wrote about us,

Everyone thinks it's about them.

I sometimes have to answer the question,

'Where do these thoughts

And these weird plot lines come from?'

I always reply that my monotonous life

Is pretty banal and simple

But I do love watching movies.

I'll brush off the dust and hide your image

Somewhere far and deep

Behind the photoalbums, the letters, the books,

Behind the black and white landscape

Where trees, mists and ice floes

Are weaved into a web of bridges.

This relationship is like a thread of spider web,

A language absent gestures or words.

Every one of us had the chance of becoming a normal person, you know.

It's so good that it's not how we turned out

And that we are who we are.

Today I bought a cassette with a soundtrack

And I've spent the whole evening with headphones on

Listening to the songs

About the people who got caught in a storm

Bound together in a paper boat,

About hair that had no love for the hairpins,

About weakness, evil and fearless,

About emotions that had no eyes

But had to try to survive.

About cities and deserts,

About us, half-dead from a frenzy.

I'll brush off the dust and hide your image

Somewhere far and deep

Behind the photoalbums, the letters, the books,

Behind the black and white landscape

Where trees, mists and ice floes

Are weaved into a web of bridges.

This relationship is like a thread of spider web,

A language absent gestures or words.