In lands beyond the Eastern trail,
Where dragon and eagle tongues do wail,
Two kin of jade, by whispers caught,
In silver spider's web, are fraught.

By hearth's glow, where north winds blow,
Prices of the gas fall low.
Woodside's steel avoiding the fight,
Keeps the flame burning bright, through the night.

In bear's den, a tale unfolds,
Of a scribe in chains and icy colds.
Gershkovich, to silence's tower, by November's fall,
In the cruel court's never-ending brawl.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur