Upon the shores of German Bunds, a boon doth lie,
As impasse forms in land afar, on ceiling nigh,
Messy strife for Treasuries unfurls yon sea,
Risk doth wane, as Citi's words bring light to me.

In realms of Briton's confidence, a year-high brims,
Four months of growth, eased throes of gold, the heart ungrims,
Spend'ng squeezed, as interest rates upon them gnaw,
Still hopeful songs, of lesser flames, inflat'n withdraw.

To Far East's land, where dragons' breath engulfs the skies,
Alibaba, Tencent, Baidu, yield not pennants high,
The warriors of technology, their gains restrict,
As shadows loom, o'er economic growth, persist.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur