South of the city lies the calm lake, west the long Huai River.
How grand the strategic layout of Jindou, where Wu men built Hefei.
Cao Cao once eyed this land with wolfish greed; Fu Jian's forces clashed and fell.
The imperial carriage halted at Wuhui, heavy troops shielded the frontier.
In the year Ding-Si of Shaoxing, a scholar took up military command.
Li Qiong betrayed with his troops, crossing the river to join the false Qi.
In the chaos of forced expulsion, blades were raised against the loyal.
The gentlemen in office, facing peril, did not waver in integrity.
The Minister sacrificed for the state, giving his life to the cause.
His curses at the foe were tragic and bold, his choked voice full of anguish.
Alas, Governor Zhao, your loyal blood splattered the crossroads.
Qiao and Zhang, great generals in office, lay dead across the steps.
To this day, their remaining troops speak of it with streaming tears.
By law, they deserve posthumous honors; history should record their pure rule.
By law, a temple should be built for them, offerings made on Huai's shores.
Why do later men drift far, giving no thought to our plea?
Residing in grand official mansions, spirits find no shelter in thatched huts.
The grievance and souls, restless, where can they rely?
Thus within the prefecture, ghostly wonders multiply.
Under the bright moon in the courtyard, shadows seem to peer.
Coughs and movements are heard, figures in robes and caps appear.
Officials and people daily waste away; governors meet with disaster and grief.
Eight commanders in one cycle, five deaths, three mourning wives.
Lord Zhang and his lady, bodies covered with sores.
Scratching brings pain to the bone; removing clothes tears the skin.
Rebels seized the hall, the lady directed from within.
Jade bridles demanded black steeds, cloud-like hair chased maids.
Perishing together in moments—a rare tale through the ages.
Chen, the open-hearted Academician; Li, the literary master.
His will to build the city unfulfilled, revival halted here.
When Lord Du was in office, ghosts came at night to whip him.
Drawing his sword to drive them off, he glanced back past the curtain.
They said, 'Du the Second, your fortune brings the grief of drumming pots.'
Dezhang left his post, listless as a walking corpse.
Home, his mat not yet warm, dire news suddenly spread.
Andao moved to Jiahe, his sick bones frail and weak.
Then autumn heat blazed; a padded cap wrapped his chin.
What remains of his years? His spirit already departed.
Master Shuo understood governance; a versatile talent soothed the people.
A month's rule from the east, simple and calm, much suited the folk.
Word has it on his burial day, the whole town wailed and cried.
Recently, Wu of the Pavilion, his carriage bore the spirit away.
Guards fell at the official building; stable horses wrapped in worn curtains.
Travelers heard and were shocked; the whole family stunned to stupor.
Once the governor of Yezhong, tabooed the surname Yuchi.
Died for the state in Later Zhou, his heroic loyalty lacked a shrine.
By Tang's Kaiyuan era, prefects faced many perils.
In office, repeatedly exiled to death, not yet arrived, they sighed.
Kind Zhang Jiayou, upon arrival, grasped the root.
Temple solemn with rites, after full term moved to the capital.
Brothers ranked with three halberds; the Imperial Guard gained glory.
Wu Jing succeeded in rule; the spirit received crown and robe.
Since then, governors had no troubles—history's record can be trusted.
Bo You held Zheng's power, extravagant, lost in revelry.
Fled, then rebelled again, died in a sheep market, wild and spread.
His fierce soul turned malicious, killing as if picking things up.
Later, Liangzhi was established; sacrifices continued in the clan line.
Punishment he brought on himself; fortune and misfortune can still shift.
A large clan relies on thick support; Zichan would not deceive us.
Five kinds of malarial chills; hopping on one foot like Kui.
Some can cause sickness; pray and cook a hen.
Moreover, we are righteous martyrs, ranks not low or base.
Awe-inspiring with vital energy—why doubt becoming spirits?
Not a spoonful of water poured on ground, dare we hope for pots or hoofs?
Not a tile to cover the roof, dare we hope for beams or rafters?
The ruler entrusts people and land; who will bear this duty?
The past is not for blame; the future can still be pursued.
If following Bao Xiaosu, or relying on Huang Diqi.
Build a few simple houses, lavish or frugal as public or private.
Paintings display images; incense and fire serve the seasons.
The Minister's name and rank are weighty; the main hall may be fit.
Lady Lü followed her husband in death; the chaste wife strict in inner chambers.
Worthy and pure line the side halls, earlier and later ranked in order.
Those who shared hardship then, their likeness must not be omitted.
Zhang, Chen, Li, Bao, Han—surely they follow each other.
Dezhang left ill; his coming or going depends on the time.
Wine vessels arrayed solemn and elegant; sword ornaments shine dazzling.
When construction is done, hold a rite to cleanse the prefecture.
Green petitions to the Heavenly Emperor; scrolls inform the gods.
If saying beings differ in nature, how can men and ghosts dwell together?
Here we choose a new abode, bow twice to welcome them back.
Mournful pipes sound desolate; wind-driven carriages move unevenly.
The sky too changes color; the road is all sorrowful.
Lofty civil and martial temple, for a thousand years unshaken.
May the Governor enjoy peace, in high halls happy and harmonious.
Kindly spreading benevolent rule, auspiciousness brings abundant blessings.
Then receive the purple-script decree, enter to serve by the white jade steps.
The people gain later fortune; the year's harvest obtains prayers.
Thumping drums at night; joyful morning offerings of sacrifice.
What men and gods rely on; times peaceful, things flawless.
The Restoration Emperor is sage; all lords now lean on him.
Bright virtue reaches dark and light; gentle breeze covers Hua and Yi.
Laws and institutions shine with civil rule, clear as sun and moon hanging.
No official goes unrewarded; sacrifices should be bright and continuous.
The four ears unblocked; all affairs respected and consulted.
You, officials of Huaixi, why wait without petitioning?
A memorial drafts the imperial will; enact it, dare we delay?
The Court of Imperial Sacrifices sets the temple name; golden plaque with splendid title.
Specially inscribed to honor death for integrity; large characters carve the grand stele.
On the back of the stele, solid stone; engrave my Luzhou poem.