Sport

The political biochemistry of triumphs and defeats Lives its spasmodic life Consisting of precious milliseconds, Precise calculations and brutal muscle power. But this bodily activity Doesn't mean a thing Without the reports, the flags, the anthems, the politics of international relations, Without the sensational exposures, regularly supplied by biologists. And what is left for those who are not involved in the world of national vanities, A world of deadly grudges and the will to win, A world of flag-waving and sublimated hatred, even in those who imagine themselves observers? None of the above, actually. Our victories have long since been converted into ordinary days. When half an hour passes in ten minutes And evenings linger until dawns For no apparent reason.