多年古剎 No One Has Mended It
有詩為證。詩曰：有诗为证。诗曰：
逐句解 Line by line
There is a poem in evidence.
為 is wéi, to serve as — a poem serving as proof. The formula is the storyteller's way of citing an authority for what he has just described, and the authority is a poem he is about to recite himself.
The poem says:
Two characters, and the shortest tag in the chapter.
An ancient monastery of many years with no one to mend it, / wretched and decayed, and fallen further still.
The second 剎 of the chapter, again chà. This is a seven-character regulated poem, a tighter and more formal thing than the rhapsody before it, and it covers the same ground in a quarter of the space.
Fierce winds have split the guardian's face, / heavy rains have worn away the Buddha's head.
A 伽藍 is a monastery, from the Sanskrit saṅghārāma, and by extension the guardian spirit of one. Wind splitting a guardian's face is a good deal worse than wind damaging a wall: the thing that was supposed to protect the place has itself been broken by the weather.
The narrator produces a poem as evidence for a scene he has just spent nine lines describing, which is pure storyteller's manner — the marketplace habit of citing a verse to settle a point.
The poem's argument is different from the rhapsody's, though. The rhapsody listed what was broken. The poem asks who was supposed to prevent it, and answers by showing the guardians broken too.