In the kingdom of Dragons, East, where golden sun doth meet,
The scepter's might does wane, as doth a warrior in defeat.
The youth remain uncounted, e'en as the tempest's roar,
A telling wind, that whispers, of the economy's shore.

In the realm of Pandora, a harp's strings are tuned,
Growth, a diligent maidservant, by her master's hand, is pruned.
From distant shores of China, to the eagle's vast domain,
A shy wench named Profit, doth cause some fleeting pain.

In the shadow of the towering beast, Evergrande by name,
A phoenix stirs, its wings alight, with the investor's flame.
From Dubai's sun-soaked dunes, a noble pledge is made,
Half a thousand million, in the dragon's cave is laid.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur