Book of Songs

唐风·山有枢

Táng fēng · Shān yǒu shū

佚名

Yì míng

Shān yǒu shū, xí yǒu yú. Zǐ yǒu yī cháng, fú yè fú lǚ. Zǐ yǒu chē mǎ, fú chí fú qū. Wǎn qí sǐ yǐ, tā rén shì yú.

山有枢，隰有榆。子有衣裳，弗曳弗娄。子有车马，弗驰弗驱。宛其死矣，他人是愉。

Shān yǒu kǎo, xí yǒu niǔ. Zǐ yǒu tíng nèi, fú sǎ fú sǎo. Zǐ yǒu zhōng gǔ, fú gǔ fú kǎo. Wǎn qí sǐ yǐ, tā rén shì bǎo.

山有栲，隰有杻。子有廷内，弗洒弗埽。子有钟鼓，弗鼓弗考。宛其死矣，他人是保。

Shān yǒu qī, xí yǒu lì. Zǐ yǒu jiǔ shí, hé bù rì gǔ sè? Qiě yǐ xǐ lè, qiě yǐ yǒng rì. Wǎn qí sǐ yǐ, tā rén rù shì.

山有漆，隰有栗。子有酒食，何不日鼓瑟？且以喜乐，且以永日。宛其死矣，他人入室。

Translation

On the hills grow shu trees; in the lowlands grow elms. You have robes, yet you do not wear them; you have chariots and horses, yet you do not drive them. When suddenly you die, others will enjoy them. On the hills grow kao trees; in the lowlands grow niu trees. You have halls and courtyards, yet you do not sweep them; you have bells and drums, yet you do not strike them. When suddenly you die, others will keep them. On the hills grow lacquer trees; in the lowlands grow chestnuts. You have wine and food—why not play the se each day? Use them for joy, use them to lengthen the day. When suddenly you die, others will enter your house.

Analysis

“On the Hills Grow Shu Trees” appears to urge pleasure, but beneath that urging lies a sharp awareness of mortality. The poem lists clothing, horses and chariots, halls, bells and drums, wine and food—things meant to be used in life, ceremony, and celebration. Yet their owner does not use them. The refrain is blunt: when death comes, others will enjoy what you have hoarded. Compared with “The Crickets,” this poem is more urgent and more ironic. The opening images of trees on hills and in lowlands make human possession seem temporary. Nature remains; the owner may suddenly vanish. The poem’s call to enjoyment is therefore also a critique of empty ownership.

About the Author

The airs in the Book of Songs were largely drawn from regional songs of the Zhou world, and their individual authors are unknown. They are therefore traditionally attributed to “Anonymous.” These poems preserve voices from folk singing, ritual occasions, labor, love, marriage, complaint, longing, and public life. Their language is simple yet highly shaped by repetition, rhythm, and image. Because they are not tied to a single named poet, they carry a broader collective memory of early Chinese society and form one of the deepest sources of the Chinese poetic tradition.