986 Poetry

[Jager]

The precious two, inlet air and purging fire,
The first my throttle, the other my desire;

Both are with thee, wherever I drive,
Always growling, especially turn five;

For when these are gone,
Life stops, I feel very alone;

Then next race day, all recurred,
Back again, happiness assured;

By swift Boxster they return'd to thee,
Blowing air and blazing flames, recounting into me;

With these thoughts, driving makes me glad,
But without air or fire, I would be very, very, sad.