Жажда [Zhazhda] [English translation]

I'm waking up, I'm afraid to open the eyelids,

And I am asking: Who is here? Who is here?

They are responding, but somewhat indistinctly.

All clocks ran sideways here, this is the new time.

Trumpets, I hear the trumpets... Who's calling us?

I've moved into a house, yet again it lacks space.

I'm saying: No; but it's a conditional reflex,

It must be too late, must be too late...

You may ask yourself, ask yourself:

Where is my new fancy house?

You may cite Brian Eno along with David Byrne,

But in any communal apartment

There is its own circus,

Boot steps in a corridor, totally empty.

And you led them away farther and farther,

But the farther into the woods, the easier it's to aim at the back.

And you came home with a heart full of love,

And we shattered it together,

Every last time together.

Our hands are so used to cheap plastic,

Our hands are afraid to hold silver [cross];

But who said then that we're unable to clean up?

Who said then that we're unable to clean up?

With my eyes closed, I'm asking the water:

Water, please cleanse us once more and again.

With my eyes closed, I'm asking the water:

Water, please cleanse us once more and again.

With my eyes closed, I'm asking the water:

Water, please cleanse us...