Regicide, proforma-style

Efter nogle kig på denne smukke blogs nylige indlæg har jeg lært, at der Laksenkönig efter sigende ikke bryder sig synderligt meget om recitationer og den slags; og mit sidste ønske, det skal Jahve vide, er at sætte mig op mod en så værdig person i blog-øjemed. Til gengæld kan jeg ikke sådan bare stå tilbage for visse fransk-kyndiges stickin' it up to the Man - jeg må være med i legen. Jeg vælger dog at supplere med en mere gængs form, fordi jeg er så hundeglad for kompromiser. Her er derfor et lille stykke poesi, som jeg synes indkapsler mange fine ting på én gang.



Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Udover det har jeg kun én ting a sige: Whistle while you wade through the carnage!