There is an impulse

A definite impulse

And I didn't rush back to grab the children from the flames

But it was only a dream

So it doesn't really matter

And, Nastasya,

You were laughing at me

And I could only hold you close

Because I love you

And you don't want to love me

But you do,

So what does it matter if I dream

Of burning houses,

Of oversized plane crashes

And of claustrophobic agony,

What does it matter if I dream

When here, Nastasya,

We can live a little.