A poem about someone concentrating on painting

Gather your energy and concentrate on the tip of the pen,

outline the famous mountains and rivers in your chest.

With the intention of splashing ink,

the painting has appeared in my hand.

Lie down and quietly describe the details,

The poem is lifted and the seal is printed with wonderful strokes.

If you ask why painting is like this?

Art has its own special merits and becomes an immortal.