From the Eastern dragon's breath, commerce doth wane,
For four moons in line, amiss spreads in the main.
In the realms of commerce, sorrow embarks,
As whispers of gold, this silence stark.

With heralded wings, Airbus soars high,
In August's embrace, their craft fill the sky.
Yet still they strive, with targets unfurled,
To etch their name in the parchment of the world.

The Spanish bond of thirty years' span,
Inflation bound, starts its grand plan.
Yet foresight whispers, firm in its sound,
No overseas bounty in this auction found.

by Conchobar mac Dubhthach

a centaur