In Search of the Sword

My heart is steeped in hate, too deep for blood to write,

One banner sweeps away the rabble of a troubled age.

I hate how the Buddha watches the calamity's source and offers no salvation,

So flag and sword punish the guilty and redeem the wicked.

Through hardship I cross the bounds on a bitter ascetic's path,

Dust and wind, slow fire, boil away the years of my life.

The wicked way dares to paint over the azure sky,

But blood churns in my chest, and my sword upholds what is right.