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You may call me a loafer and grandee,

But I found me a nice saving island.

For the stadium is free on a Monday.

Uninhabited. Empty. And silent.


Blue, the skies are a fathomless stare.

In a one-man procession I pass.

Neither losses nor gains. Clean and fair.

And the silence is smelling of grass.


Sniff of devilish passions! - but later

I drink deeply the clear and cool air.

For today I'm the only spectator

Of the unknown sportsman over there.


There's a gleam form the sharp slender javelin

Of the lad in the posture antique.

And across my green island is traveling

Splendid news, like a shining sun-streak.


Oh, my lad, you have broken the record.

Javelin flew all across with a hiss.

And with none else upon the green acre

I alone shall bear witness to this.


I shall give you a standing ovation,

I'll remember this gleam like a pledge.

Do protect me, oh javelin ancient,

In the horrible nuclear age.


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