( via / via )

Crazy.

"Modern-day Romeo and Juliet where he deletes his social media because he thought she deleted hers but really she just got temporarily suspended for pissing off the mods so when she gets back online she sees that he deleted his account so she gets super sad and deletes hers" —@thehyyyype.bsky.social

Poor. Old. Tired. Horse.

"Deor (Translation)

Knowing wretchedness, Welund moved near snakes.
Lone-minded man · muted to pain,
He cleaved to his sorrow · coldest vengeance
Through winter's longing, having watched in anguish
As Nithhad bound him · with knotted sinews,
Annulled all mastery · of the better man

That passed over ... and so this may!

Not brothers' deaths, but her belly swollen
And plump from plowing · appalled this Beadohild,
Whom Welund had weighted · a pitiable way:
Never bold, now bred, with bearing close,
Distress drugged · and reason deserted her.

That passed over ... and so this may!

We heard rape's outrage · as ruin fell to song,
Hate-words; yet heartless · by the hurt of Nithhad
Who, slitting the flesh, slept sorrowfully.

That passed over ... and so this may!

The Maerings' stronghold · shook steadily
Full thirty winters · in Theodoric's trust.

That passed over ... and so this may!

Asking of Eormanric · we heard but evil
Of his wolfish ways, how widely his sway
Grieved Goths in the kingdom -- that grimmest of kings!
Many a man sat, sorrow-bound,
Watchful for misery; wished many a time
That his country's nightmare · might be overcome.

That passed over ... and so this may!

And still he sits · liege to sorrow,
Darkened in heart, doling himself
What surely seems · an endless share of woe.
Yet the world's turning · works into his mind --
The wicked lord · falls before the wise,
Grants by his absence · honor to the abject man,
Power to the weak, pain to his fallen hinds.
So that I of myself · wish to say
That once I sang · as the Heodenings' scop
To my dear prince. Deor was my name.
Many winters I ruled · rightly from my place,
Ruled the high lord -- until Heorrenda now,
He skilled in song, received my whole estate,
That I had never stained · since bestowed on me.

That passed over ... and so this may!"

—Keith Moul at Alliteration.net

Count the Almonds.