It seems to be a work left behind by an unknown poet from the earliest ages of ancient Benzaitengoku, when poetry had not yet vanished. This should be the opening scroll of one of those works.

Foxes are the wisest of creatures,
as they know how to harvest Earth's gifts.
The sulfur by hot springs,
the saltpeter in bird droppings.
The wisest creatures bathe in mud pits,
so their fiery fur won't ignite the powder.

The heavenly fire scorches the nameless short,
on a night not too long ago.
When meteor showers fleeted across the dark sky,
only foxes knew they were fragments of fallen whales.

The wisest creatures search the tidal flats,
for amber, ambergris, and star-lined glass from sunken ships.
Pearls are nothing rare here,
where periodic clams open their long mouths wide,
and lanthanides and actinides hide in their mantles.

Clay cauldrons nurture alchemical spells,
since the world has too many tears,
and what's scarce is true wealth.
In those moonless years,
the starry sky only reflects the foxes' cunning smiles.

Traffic lights flicker and fly
Signals drowned in total chaos
The fox grows restless
The liquidity crisis is nigh

Cast away your burdens
They will become a terrifying leverage
Stand upon the golden stage
The day to scavenge the depths is drawing close

Southern villages soaked in endless rain
Crow feathers adorn the pitch-black legion
The fox grows restless
The war of Cindearth is nigh

Cast away your fragility
They will only draw the guided bombs
Stand upon the stage of Graphia
The day of the great encanvasing is drawing close

Dirges grow weary of the sea of stars
Wisdom yearns for arcadia