Jinwu was a man from Heshuo, serving the commandery in lowly rank.
He attached himself to Zhou Shizong, a dragon rising from fish and turtles.
He pledged himself to our sacred court, amassing merit to gain command.
Wherever he was, he raged greed and cruelty, relying on his achievements of the time.
When the royal house pacified Jinling, at Jiujiang gathered remaining rebels.
After a year the city fell, he spared not even chicken or dog.
Old and young, several thousand people, in one wrath all bled to death.
The three delusions he possessed all; the five blessings, how did he lack any?
In late years he gained Jinwu's post, wealth and honor at the court.
Amusements had clear melodies; healthy and strong, no white hair.
He lived to sixty-nine, surely not a premature death.
He died in peace by the north window, hands and feet fully extended.
Descendants a dozen or more, removed their pendants, donned mourning hemp.
Posthumous honors were quite generous, court sessions halted for his sake.
Grief and glory being like this, what use to speak of retribution?
Li Guang died by clerk's accusation; Wu'an perished by bestowed sword.
He was luckier than the ancients, and without great deeds at that.
'Bless the good and punish the licentious'—this saying is but empty talk.
Alas! We scholars who guard our names and integrity,
At fifty, court ministers, decrepit, heads like snow.
We kill no sheep without reason; how can we overstep ritual texts?
Especially for guest rites and sacrifices, poor and bitter, we have no sheep to kill.