The red pavilion rests on the Xiang River,
The Zheng River joins it on the left.
Overlooking vast emptiness,
The green purity cannot be defiled.
In the early days of its founding,
The local lord truly aided the king.
He cleared woods and moved the temple,
Bought land with family wealth.
Its beams grand and lovely,
Its structure splendid beyond compare.
That man departed, soaring high,
This place then fell to ruin.
The old official came late,
His lofty song found echo after long.
Orchids filled nine fields,
Bamboos planted over ten thousand.
Long ropes draw from the blue waves,
Quiet paths descend rugged slopes.
At night, listen to the waves below,
At dawn, face clouds and trees reclining.
At first, it seemed to forget official cares,
In the end, it topped the county's achievements.
Human life is truly brief,
Past events bring sorrow, helpless.
Desolation stretches through the years,
Hardship follows mediocrity.
Who speaks of glorious deeds now?
Ill repute spreads daily.
The censor dismissed the wicked,
The emperor pitied the poor and hungry.
When you, my lord, first arrived,
The townsfolk congratulated each other.
Lingering, I delight in leisure,
You urge the lazy with diligence.
For me, you sweep the dusty steps,
Order music to drunk the crowd.
Late autumn grieves the equinox,
The new moon pities its half-broken state.
I wish to write on the cliff stone,
Let no mud or dust stain it.