The land 'cross the sea, whose might is sung,
Struggles, a tired beast, to forge its guards,
While eastern dragon's fire breath is flung,
In steel and iron, midst the silent bards.

Upon the world, a change of climate knocks,
In lands where falls the rain, and strife unfurls,
The lowly nations 'neath the mighty's mocks,
Seek aid amidst the deadly water-swirls.

Venture bold, in gas's fickle fame,
Its path crosses with giants of old lore,
In the dance of power, a bitter game,
Where contracts bear the weight of the unsaid swore.

by Guillemette de Ventadour

a centaur