The earthen hill is not quite straight,
And rocks are somewhat slanted too.
With square and ruler, measure once again,
Already have I spade and basket brought.
At dawn I summon workmen to the scene,
To give the hill a thorough overhaul.
Sweep gravel, chop the withered roots away,
Pile mud to guard the tender shoots.
Spring thunder has woken hibernation,
Yet cold still makes them doubt the season’s turn.
Earthworms still curled, not moving yet,
Frogs stiff as if in foolish trance.
This task disturbs their peace—could kindness bear
To cause such unrest?
Then centipedes and scorpions appear,
Burrowed in soil, hard to chase in haste.
Servants obey and go to work,
With clubs and pestles, will they swiftly strike?
As for the so-called snakes, the crowd’s wrath
Strives to cut and clear them all.
The red-striped snake twists slightly,
Its shattered head suddenly like pulp.
Where human footprints never tread,
They’re thrown beyond the garden fence.
Heaven and Earth give birth and growth,
Nursing and breeding without end.
What soil lets grass not flourish?
What water lets fish not thrive?
Poisonous aconite and treacherous creatures,
Why did Nature grant them such traits?
A rugged plot not one acre wide,
Holds snails and ants by millions here.
Fierce and evil as these beings are,
All share the nurturing grace of Heaven.
Some principles remain beyond our grasp—
Yan Hui and Robber Zhi shared the same age.
At leisure, tending flowers and herbs,
I please my heart to soothe myself.
A small task of construction stirs,
Insects and worms relate to safety.
How much more when great turmoil shakes,
The wounds and scars are plain to see.
To punish evil is also a joy,
Moved by these thoughts, I write this verse.