The living remain temporarily in the temple. For the dead, we bind paper effigies as bodies.
When one dies in a strange land, the soul cannot find its way home. The effigy serves as the body. The name serves as the guide. The incense paves the road.
You must never paint eyes on the effigies. With eyes, they see the mortal realm. Seeing the mortal realm, they refuse to leave.
On the night of the Ghost Festival, I sought to burn the paper and send the souls away. Alas, heavy rain extinguished the incense. The sodden paper would not burn. The ritual failed.
I, too, have caught the sickness. My strength wanes by the day, and I fear I cannot guard this place much longer.
If anyone should arrive later and find this ruined temple, I beg you to light a stick of incense and prepare an altar of offerings.
Grant deliverance to these wandering souls.
Letter