đánh rắn không dập đầu
Striking the snake without crushing the head — the job left exactly unfinished enough to bite back.
All languages English Tiếng Việt
Where will you be? Anywhere Hà Nội & the NorthHuế / Đà Nẵng & the CenterSài Gòn & the SouthOnline slang Bắc ↔ Nam words
Striking the snake without crushing the head — the job left exactly unfinished enough to bite back.
to give away your position through rash actions; to alert someone of your presence unwittingly
to drum the beats of digression
Beat the drum, the bell resounds; pull the rattan, the forest shakes — no disturbance stays single.
Play the numbers and you'll live on the levee — gambling on lottery digits ruins house and home.
Wherever you land, follow the karma there — the traveler bends to each shore's terms.
Poking the rice sack, prodding the paddy sack — the go-between whose needle stitches quarrels.
Budding shoots and breaking buds — new growth; a fresh start full of promise.
The spear thrown, follow the spear — committed past retrieval, so commit.
The overcrowded corpse gets pushed outside — even death respects the shortage of room.
Diving head-first into the tiger's den — where the danger is is where he leapt.
having further hardship(s) stacked upon preexisting poverty
Pure satisfaction, out loud — "SO good" — for cold beer, rain after heat, a win replayed; the South's favorite exhale.
Once named husband and wife, though mountains tilt and rivers run dry, we do not part — the vow at continental scale.
Already bruised, and blackened on top — misfortune stacked on misfortune.
Once you've daubed, you must plaster — having begun, you're bound to see it through.
A gallbladder large, a heart small — daring in the deed, care in the planning.
No lamp outshines Sa Đéc's, no girl outshines Nha Mân's — up and down goes my fishing boat; love tears my gut, yet nearing her I tremble.
Lying all night without touching the bed, longing for dawn to walk out and meet her — insomnia, love's oldest symptom.
Lie awake at night and reckon it — a gambling husband is a house-wrecking demon — the wife's midnight arithmetic.
during May nights you can barely rest before the sun rises, and during October days you can barely have fun before it sets
Night after night I watch the Milky Way and the Dipper's handle — three years full; the stone wears down but this heart does not.
Rotten ferries collide — the failing knocking against the failing.
Ferries from Đông Ba past Đập Đá, from Vĩ Dạ straight to Ba Sình — a drifting moon, a far-off boat song heavy with love of country — Huế's rivers in one breath.
The carrying-spike sharp at both ends — the middleman who wounds both sides.
The carrying-stick sharpened at both ends — the go-between who pricks each party toward the other; duplicity as hardware.
One must remain decent and honorable in spite of hardship.
Hungry for rice, ragged of coat — destitution with no way out.
Racing in strength and racing in breath — rivalry down to the last lungful.
Hungry, I eat date-palm fruit and keep the rice for mother — her teeth are old and weak — filial piety at its plainest table.
Hungry, I eat half a sim-berry and drink half a bowl of water to go find my love — appetite deferred to longing.
Hungry or full, one wife one husband — a bowl of broken rice, and rich in play of heart; who fells the tree tears off the shoot? Anger passes, love returns.
"So hungry" — a state report and a proposal in one; the natural next line is "ăn gì đây?" (what shall we eat?).
Hunger breeds the desperate — courtesy is a fed virtue.
Hunger sets the knees crawling — feet learn to run and legs to go when the stomach commands.
Painted cakes for hunger, dreamt gold for wealth — comforts with no calories; the currency of illusion.
Hungry, eat greens; ailing, take medicine — each want has its own plain remedy; don't cross the prescriptions.
Hunger teaches the knees to crawl — necessity is the body's own instructor.
to shut the door and teach each other
We two meeting here: a starved ox finding fallow grass — hunger's luck, said with a grin.
We two herded buffalo together in patched brown-dyed shirts — may the rice take to the basket, the moon to the wind, and you to me.
We two are rice in the milk-ripe ear — matched in love, unmatched to our parents' liking; threads the elders spun thin, we spun thick.
We two are fire new-kindled, moon new-risen, lamp new-trimmed — everything at its brightest first hour.
We two are Phan and Trần of the old tale — a thousand leagues apart, then side by side.
We two are wine and fermented pork — mid-intoxication; let no one's whisper part us.
We two are little water-snakes — let the current run as it will, we hold each other up.
We two are a coin's two faces — heads, tails, tilted or flat, still one coin.
We two are a figure fresh-molded, a bell fresh-cast, a temple fresh-built — love in its unchipped first gloss.
We two love long and remember longer — as the river holds its water, as the mulberry branch holds the silkworm.
Designer-knockoff flashy — dressing head-to-toe in fake luxury (the word is a Vietnamized «Dolce») and carrying it with total confidence; names both the counterfeit goods and the loud aesthetic built on them.
Clouds in the east, stars in the west — company on every horizon; a gathering in full assembly.
Many hands beat skilled ones — numbers out-produce virtuosity.
Many hands make the clap loud — collective effort gets results a lone pair of hands cannot; the communal cousin of "many hands make light work".
Silk in winter, rags in summer — provision perfectly out of season.
A softened Southern expletive — the minced cousin of «đụ má», keeping the rhythm of the curse with most of the sting sanded off; punctuation for frustration or disbelief among friends.
"Just kidding" — the retraction that saves friendships; deploy fast after a joke lands wrong.
many large, bulky, and cumbersome items
The tag question "right?" — turns any statement into a check-in; the listener's nod is half of Vietnamese conversation.
"That's right" — plain confirmation; stretch it to "đúng rồi đó!" and it becomes delighted agreement.
The climb starts low, the journey starts near — no summit skips the foothills.