Template:Dkt regolamenti homunculus
Regolamento: Th’untended thatch of shin-tangling rulery sleepeth not. Slim principles of conduct — short days ago, a waxing star — now replay as half-recollected reveries. Was there such a time? Was life so sweet? Who knew what glinting jewels we held? Now knotted perimeters o’erlap and contradict. Rulebooks overflow in every body. Even our own.. Th’allvuvial fan silts with ropish scars of distant misadventure Our cause grows ever bleak In that rich and loamy sod low stunted shrubs whose thorny limbs the squalling wind doth shriek. We set our team with adze and axe and secateurs They hack at growling branches -who mandate this matchèd trade, time-stamp that contemporaneously, for aught but some pedantic reconciliation. But it is a labour more riskful then rewarding.
Th’untended thatch of shin-tangling rulery sleepeth not.
Slim principles of good behaviour — short days ago, a waxing star — now replay as ill-recollected dreams.
O, sweet reverie! Was there e’er so sweet a time?
Was compliant life so kind? Who knew what glinting jewels we held?
Now knotted perimeters o’erlap and contradict.
Bossy strictures bear down on our merest industries
Our every little act hemmed in by rainbow rules of ill-scop’d application
Ours not to reason why
Ours to do and comply.
We take our bitter medicines even while we let this gleaming engine stack silt up
As if it were a discarded hulk, half-buried in the mud at Tilbury
Queen what causes this?
Regulato: the ropish scars of distant misadventure Each shrill response to imprudent trips and grapples Each time we suffer a wormy bite of rotten apple, whether harmed or just embarrassed Some alert official record, reflect, punishes, and encodes In cryptic ciphers which thereafter he or she doth not deign to explain or change. It set in stone and codified, for good or ill. Q: canst thou not get a ruling? Nuncle: a worthy thought. A pretty feeling. And ask him while you’re there to nail jelly to the ceiling. Our cause grows ever bleak In that rich and loamy sod low stunted shrubs whose thorny limbs the squalling wind doth shriek. We set our team with adze and axe and secateurs They hack at growling branches -who mandate this matchèd trade, time-stamp that contemporaneously, for aught but some pedantic reconciliation. But it is a labour more riskful then rewarding.