Who Cares?

A poem by Vladimir Vysotskiy
Translated by Nikita Pavlov

Who cares that your wife is making trouble?
Who cares that you're wobbly in the head?
Who cares that you just got mugged by neighbors?
Be thankful for the fact that you're not dead.

It's not that bad if you've got twenty ulcers,
It's not that bad if you can't hold your drinks,
It's not that bad if you're faced with eviction,
Be thankful for the fact that you still live.

Forget that they knocked off your poker partner,
Forget that you're so trashed you cannot sleep,
Forget that all your friends just beat you senseless,
Be thankful that your scrawny life you keep.

All right, so you just dozed amid the garbage,
All right, so someone stabbed you with a knife,
All right, so now you're driven to the clinic,
Be thankful, won't you, that you're still alive.

It's true, when there's a will, a way is near,
It's true that God helps those who help themselves.
It's true, but I'm still bothered by a question:
To whom, pray tell, should I be giving thanks?

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