Book of Songs

魏风·园有桃

Wèi fēng · Yuán yǒu táo

佚名

Yì míng

Yuán yǒu táo, qí shí zhī yáo. Xīn zhī yōu yǐ, wǒ gē qiě yáo.

园有桃,其实之殽。心之忧矣,我歌且谣。

Bù zhī wǒ zhě, wèi wǒ shì yě jiāo. Bǐ rén shì zāi, zǐ yuē hé qí? Xīn zhī yōu yǐ, qí shuí zhī zhī? Qí shuí zhī zhī, gài yì wù sī!

不知我者,谓我士也骄。彼人是哉,子曰何其?心之忧矣,其谁知之?其谁知之,盖亦勿思!

Yuán yǒu jí, qí shí zhī shí. Xīn zhī yōu yǐ, liáo yǐ xíng guó.

园有棘,其实之食。心之忧矣,聊以行国。

Bù zhī wǒ zhě, wèi wǒ shì yě wǎng jí. Bǐ rén shì zāi, zǐ yuē hé qí? Xīn zhī yōu yǐ, qí shuí zhī zhī? Qí shuí zhī zhī, gài yì wù sī!

不知我者,谓我士也罔极。彼人是哉,子曰何其?心之忧矣,其谁知之?其谁知之,盖亦勿思!


Translation

There are peach trees in the garden; their fruit may be prepared as food. My heart is troubled, so I sing and chant to ease it. Those who do not understand me say that I, a gentleman, am proud. Are those people right? Why do you speak so? The sorrow in my heart—who can know it? Since no one knows, perhaps I should no longer dwell on it. There are jujube trees in the garden; their fruit may be eaten. My heart is troubled, so I wander through the state. Those who do not understand me say that I, a gentleman, have no bounds. Are they right? Why do you say so? The sorrow in my heart—who can know it? Since no one knows, perhaps I should no longer think of it.

Analysis

“There Are Peach Trees in the Garden” gives voice to a person whose grief is misunderstood. The poem begins with ordinary garden images: peaches and jujubes, fruit that can be eaten. Daily life continues, yet beneath it lies a burden that cannot be fully spoken. Singing and wandering are not signs of leisure but attempts to survive an inward anxiety. The repeated phrase “those who do not understand me” is crucial. The speaker is not only troubled by public affairs or private sorrow; he is wounded by misreading. Others call him proud or excessive, while he asks, again and again, who can truly know his heart. The closing impulse to “think no more” is not peace, but resignation.

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.