ngưu tầm ngưu, mã tầm mã
Close to the English saying: “Birds of a feather flock together.”.
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Where will you be? Anywhere Hà Nội & the NorthHuế / Đà Nẵng & the CenterSài Gòn & the SouthOnline slang Bắc ↔ Nam words
Close to the English saying: “Birds of a feather flock together.”.
The moneyed scorn the empty-handed — respect priced strictly in cash.
A stranger with decency, treat as kin; kin without decency, let them go — conduct, not blood, draws the family line.
The wise age quickly — thought is expensive tissue.
every man for himself
People are the gold; goods are the debt of kindness — value the maker over the made.
People make the wealth — hands, not vaults, are the mint.
The louse-picker — someone withdrawn from worldly affairs, absorbed in their own small business.
People come in five and seven ranks, goods in three and seven kinds — variety is the census of the world.
A living person is a pile of gold — no asset compares with being alive.
People are the flowers of the earth — humanity as the soil's finest bloom.
Others transplant rice for wages; I transplant watching every quarter — sky, earth, cloud, rain, sun, day, night — praying for firm feet and soft stone, calm heaven and quiet sea — the farmer's whole anxiety in one verse.
Others travel in pairs and return in pairs; I go single and come back alone — solitude in one couplet.
People look their best in silk — presentation flatters whoever wears it.
Why did we ever have to meet — a hundred years on, who knows if the path held fate or not.
"the young perish and the old linger"; an elderly person has/had to suffer the anguish of watching their young loved one die, because they think it should be the other way around
The one who came after — loving someone who loved before you; second in the door, whole in the heart.
People endure, goods are on loan — property is the guest, we are the household.
A person is a flower — open at morning, gone by dark, blooming only to fade — mortality in one blossom.
secondhand embarrassment
Holding the soap-nut and calling it sweet — swallowing bitterness with a straight face.
Curses are like young chickens, they always come home to roost.
Holding the bitter, swallowing the acrid — grievance eaten daily and in silence.
Nodding and drifting — sluggish, decision never quite arriving.
Empty as a pagoda — silence with room to echo.
Gazing at the naked chicken — joking euphemism for having died: the boiled offering hen stares back from the altar.
Uncut jade is no vessel; untaught people know no principle — polish makes the gem and the person.
Fine jade is never hawked about — true worth, like true virtue, needs no street-crier.
Stone and jade burn together — war's fire checks no credentials; the good perish mixed with the bad.
A sprig of greens, an inch of soil — even the smallest sustenance obliges the eater to its giver.
You can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar.
Sweet as sugar — sweetness beyond argument.
Idle and sad, I remember my mother of old — chewing rice soft for me, her tongue sorting out the fish bones — tenderness recalled in its smallest act.
Sitting under the fig with mouth open, waiting for the drop — providence expected to do the chewing too.
Sitting in the shade, eating from a gold bowl — reward without a bead of sweat.
Borrow by the đấu-measure, repay by the basket — interest at folk-tale rates.
Sitting in the basket, how to lift the basket — the insider's dilemma; you can't carry what you're part of.
Scabies itch and jealousy's beating — two torments that only worsen with scratching.
A horse running the long road — instruction galloping past the ears; heard and instantly lost.
A young horse eager to kick — hot-blooded youth, all spirit and no judgment.
A horse glimpsed past the window — time at a gallop; the white colt crossing the crack.
to lapse back into one's old ways; to relapse into vice
Quick as lightning — done in a flash.
Quick as a shrike's snatch — gone between blink and blink.
Brisk but botching, honest but hapless — two virtues, each shipped with its defect.
Grandchildren carry their own luck — save yourself the frenzy of enriching descendants; their portion is theirs.
Many monks, and no one shuts the temple gate — everyone's duty is no one's.
Many hands clap the flour into dough — enough people make any task knead itself.
More paddy, more milling — every abundance bills you its labor.
The red cloth drapes the mirror's stand — people of one country must love one another — the national verse of solidarity.
The soft outlasts the hard — tongues survive the teeth; yielding is the durable strength.
'Busy household!' — the mock-harried shrug of someone with everything and nothing to do.
At Nhà Bè the current splits in two: one home to Gia Định, one to Đồng Nai — the southern crossroads of longing.
A Lý Thông in the house — trust betrayed by the very person sheltered.
A rich man's cut finger equals a beggar's spilled guts — the pampered grieve a scratch like a disemboweling.
The rich covet more work — appetite for gain grows with the granary.
A house on the high street and a father high up — born holding every advantage worth holding.
A poor house reveals the devoted child; a realm in chaos, the loyal servant — allegiance is only legible in adversity.
An image of settled rural prosperity — a tile-roofed house and jackfruit trees mark a well-established household.
it is important to be clean and tidy