Ten years to master a spear,
A hundred to master the sword,
But an eternality to master the brush.
A spear, I used, to hold a fortress,
A sword unsheathed, the heavens fears,
But a brush in hand, ten thousand enlightened.
Ah, is not the spear a weapon of soldiers,
The sword, the hero's friend,
At last, the brush is the sage's kin.
Why shed blood of a thousand men,
Why not teach immortals and men.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 4:02 PM UTC
Ten years to master a spear,
A hundred to master the sword,
But an eternality to master the brush.
A spear, I used, to hold a fortress,
A sword unsheathed, the heavens fears,
But a brush in hand, ten thousand enlightened.
Ah, is not the spear a weapon of soldiers,
The sword, the hero's friend,
At last, the brush is the sage's kin.
Why shed blood of a thousand men,
Why not teach immortals and men.
The title is kind of abstract, sorry for that.