On the battlefield with a blunted blade,
But my servile heart is still polished by bones.
A core of iron inside the solid honed blade,
Enemies are annihilated by its flashing shade.
Like the blade, flexile yet tough,
Cast in flame, my soul of iron glows,
As with clay, temper lines surface.
Curved back, such a beautiful craft.
Armour protecting,
Blade slaughtering.
Every stance before my eyes is well prepared to fight.
Gazing up at the firmament,
Dreaming of death,
The tip of my sword points towards the future,
An enigmatic, unknown future.
Stacking, heating, forging,
The iron becomes one.
Folding, tempering, quenching,
The blade comes to life.
Draw my sword,
Radiant light.
Hamon's shadow,
Reflects on my mind.
劍理 - 暴君
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