古祠一區環槐榆，飛鼪在瓦狐樹居。
鐵爐缺裂死灰冷，箕坐一寸青蟾蜍。
平心定氣詳其來，頹垣古厠濁水渠。
蛇驚鼠駭得敗壁，一躍乃是神王廬。
丹青神鬼非其鄉，顧盼欲去聊躊躕。
悾悾鄙夫見之走，爭持袞冕加猨狙。
鳴鉦考鼓動井邑，毳衣襤襤驅大車。
浮萍狎狎叱不開，遙瞻竊禮三欷歔。
吾聞臧氏之子不智，山節藻梲居蔡祠鶢鶋。
無端尊禮青蝦蟆，聖門譏誚豈只且。
吾聞崇伯妖羽野，化為黃龍游羽瀦。
厥子代之啟九道，變作玄熊形狤{犭居}。
鬼神赫赫號威聖，當為龍虎為鯨魚。
作雲澍雨興萬化，翻江倒海洗九區。
咬囓妖狐咀封豕，眼光百步雙驪珠。
當為不為為蝦蟆，爬沙腳手何陋歟。
吾聞狄公焚燒江南一千七百所，只留夏禹泰伯季札伍子胥。
宋祖碭山負耒夫，吳楚淫祠為之墟。
輪囷大蟒鬰屈死，寸蟆何足汙其鈇。
人心不正至斯極，無藥可以醫籧篨。
只須正直如梁公，一日秉畀羣疑祛。
鬼車豕塗滿天下，收拾打併歸太虛。
蝦蟆無知聽放去，荒溝野水樂有餘。
古祠一片被槐樹榆樹環繞，
飛鼬在瓦上狐狸在樹中居住。
鐵爐破裂死灰冰冷，
箕踞坐著一隻一寸長的青色蟾蜍。
平心靜氣仔細推究它的來歷，
頹敗的牆垣古老的廁所渾濁的水溝。
蛇驚鼠駭中它來到破牆，
一躍便成了神王的居所。
彩繪的神鬼並非它的鄉土，
環顧想要離去卻又猶豫。
愚昧的鄙夫見了它就跑，
爭著拿袞冕給猿猴穿戴。
鳴鉦擊鼓驚動整個城邑，
穿著毛皮破衣驅趕大車。
浮萍黏附叱責也不散開，
遙望偷偷行禮再三嘆息。
我聽說臧氏之子不明智，
山節藻梲供奉大龜和鶢鶋。
無緣無故尊崇禮敬青蝦蟆，
聖人之門的譏諷豈止於此。
我聽說崇伯在羽野化爲妖物，
變成黃龍游於羽澤。
他的兒子代替他開啓九道，
變作玄熊形狀兇猛怪異。
鬼神顯赫號稱威靈神聖，
應當成爲龍虎或鯨魚。
興雲降雨化育萬物，
翻江倒海洗滌九州。
咬齧妖狐咀嚼大豬，
眼光百步如雙黑珠。
應當作爲卻不作爲反去侍奉蝦蟆，
爬沙的手腳何等鄙陋啊。
我聽說狄公焚燒江南一千七百所祠廟，
只留下夏禹、泰伯、季札、伍子胥的祠宇。
宋太祖本是碭山扛犁的農夫，
將吳楚淫祠變爲廢墟。
盤曲的大蟒郁屈而死，
寸長的蛤蟆何足玷汙他的斧鉞。
人心不正到了這種極端，
沒有藥物可以醫治駝背。
只需像梁公那樣正直，
一旦秉持正道羣疑盡消。
鬼車鳥和豬的汙穢布滿天下，
收拾打掃一併歸於太虛。
蝦蟆無知聽任放去，
荒溝野水中快樂有餘。
An old shrine, ringed by scholar‑trees and elms;
Flying weasels on tiles, foxes dwelling in trees.
An iron furnace cracked, dead ashes cold;
Sitting cross‑legged, an inch‑sized green toad.
Calm mind, steady breath, I trace its origin—
Crumbling walls, ancient latrine, muddy water ditch.
Snakes startled, rats scared, it reached a ruined wall,
One leap—and here’s the abode of a spirit king.
Painted gods and ghosts are not its home;
Looking around, it wants to leave, yet hesitates.
A foolish bumpkin sees it and runs,
Strives to put royal robes on an ape.
Gongs clang, drums beat, stirring the whole town;
In ragged fur coats they drive a large cart.
Duckweed clings close, scolded but won’t part;
Gazing from afar, I secretly bow, sighing thrice.
I’ve heard the Zang clan’s son lacked wisdom—
Carved pillars, painted beams, housing the tortoise, the osprey.
Without reason they honor the green toad;
The sages’ gate mocks—how could it be otherwise?
I’ve heard Chongbo’s strange feather in the wilds,
Transformed into a yellow dragon roaming feather‑marshes.
His son replaced him, opened the nine routes,
Changed into a dark bear, shape fierce and strange.
Ghosts and spirits, majestic, hailed as mighty and sage,
Should be dragons, tigers, or whales.
Bringing clouds, pouring rain, stirring ten thousand changes,
Overturning rivers, draining seas, washing the nine regions.
Biting demon‑foxes, chewing giant boars,
Eyes shining a hundred paces, twin black pearls.
Instead they serve a toad, doing what it shouldn’t,
Clumsy feet scratching sand—how vulgar!
I’ve heard Duke Di burned down seventeen hundred shrines south of the river,
Only kept those to Yu the Great, Taibo, Jizha, and Wu Zixu.
Song’s founder, from Dangshan, a plough‑carrying man,
Made Wu and Chu’s wanton shrines into ruins.
A coiling huge python, pent‑up, died;
An inch‑long toad—how could it stain his axe?
The human heart, warped to this extreme,
Has no medicine to cure its crookedness.
Only need uprightness like Duke Liang’s,
One day holding it forth, all doubts dispelled.
Ghost‑carts, swine‑filth fill the world;
Gather them up, sweep them clean, return to the great void.
The toad, ignorant, let it go—
Wild ditches, open waters, it can joyfully dwell.
祠宇荒蕪暗示文化認同的周期性衰微
描寫古祠荒蕪、狐鼪棲居的破敗景象
本詩為七言古詩，押平聲韻。
東山書院編輯整理