The Scholar Takes Up Arms

Dust swirls across the wilderness, startled riders race past, and chaotic sands sweep through.

Beneath the setting sun, a sorrowful wind hastens the dusk, while low, thin clouds hang over the garrison.

Do not mock the scholar for having no weapon in hand; his spear blooms in furious bursts, its divine might unleashed.

Facing the blazing sun, do not lament the fleeting dew; let your heart be free.

Along the Huayin Road, the frost lies thin. All the grasses wither, and unspoken feelings have nowhere to go.

Wait for the golden wind to bring relief, and the myriad peaks to glow red.

When spring returns and dawn breaks, a mighty wind will sweep across the land, bringing down a thousand passes.

Point toward the Taihang Mountains: one sword cleaves the heavy clouds, and the sky opens wide.

A tiger crouches among the hills, a dragon lies trapped on the shoal. One roar pierces the heavens, and the world has no blue sky.