Chu custom does not order dwellings,
Dwellers all live in thatched huts.
Thatch roofs, bamboo beams and pillars,
Thatch sparse, bamboo still gaping.
Edges slope like dike banks,
Crooked eaves and columns slanting.
Hedges don't cover shoulders,
Streets cannot accommodate carriages.
South wind prevails in May,
Seasonal rain does not fall.
Bamboo borers, thatch also dries,
Facing wind, it self-ignites into embers.
Precaution gathers neighbors,
Patrols labor day and night.
A leftover spark ignites,
Disaster spreads link by link.
Crying out to neighbors for grain and cloth,
Rushing to cut mulberry and oak.
Old frames newly burned,
New thatch just erected.
Formerly the governor of Hongzhou,
Considered this and often sighed.
Governing the people not long,
Cities and towns transformed纷然.
Lofty mansions solemnly face each other,
Soaring eaves span afar.
Taverns with red-powdered walls,
Buddhist temples with blue-mallard tiles.
This task barely unfinished,
This man long passed away.
A guest came from Hong,
Hong people still suffer.
Pity his heart too hasty,
Labor projects allowed no leisure.
Towers and pavilions also many,
Workers somewhat resentful and sighing.
I wish other district chiefs
Would focus on farming in three seasons.
After farm harvests, then town dwellings,
First houses, then terraces and towers.
Opening and closing meet deadlines,
Public and private also aid each other.
Measuring materials without forceful schemes,
Managing labor with fixed prices.
Not letting it reach excess,
Roughly enough to ward off cold and heat.
Fires differ from Chen and Zheng,
People safe as on Song and Hua peaks.
Who can inherit this fame?
Fame flows inheriting orchid and musk.
The 'Five Pants' song is heard before,
These words of mine are not false.