It doesn’t matter to me: is there a god or not
And certainly I would believe in him,
But I don’t even have that much free time.
If He helps me, it’s better for Him,
If He doesn’t help, it won’t get any worse.
If there is, then He couldn’t be worse
Than the one we used to have,
If there is: I don’t worth even a dog,
If there’s not: I don’t worth even a dog,
Neither better nor worse.
Sooner or later the poor
Has to go crazy,
Or hang on to a branch,
Except if he starts to realize,
That the poor here is God,
The rich are just angels;
Our sigh gives them wings
And in the crawling creation
Why would we need angels?
Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “Nekem mindegy”(1924).