thiết diện vô tư
An iron face without favor — incorruptibly impartial, whatever it costs.
All languages English Tiếng Việt
An iron face without favor — incorruptibly impartial, whatever it costs.
Young and untried by affairs — the greenness of years not yet weathered.
full of hardship
Heaven hears through the people's ears — the popular voice is the celestial audit.
A good life earns a good end — the peaceful deathbed is built over decades.
Good and evil repay like the shadow trailing the form — recompense walks exactly your gait, one step behind.
New Year’s card
Losses single and double — hurt on every side of the deal.
Praise for someone scarily clever: "only the feather fan short of Zhuge Liang" — one prop away from the legendary strategist himself.
Lose ten thousand to heaven before one hair to a friend — defeat by fate is bearable; by a peer, never.
The boat may move; the old wharf never does — affections change vessels, not their moorings.
A boat is strong in its helm, a woman in her husband — the old proverb's rigging of marriage.
boats follow their rower, women follow their husbands
Boat, do you remember your wharf? — the wharf, single-hearted, waits fast for its boat — constancy's most beloved metaphor.
Boat downstream, wind upstream — furthered by one force, fought by the other.
the sail gets smoothly carried away by the wind
Follow heaven and endure; defy heaven and perish — the mandate's one-sentence contract.
Aligned with heaven, answering the people — the throne held by consent of both.
In peace, cultivate the civil; against defiance, prevail by arms — the ruler's two hands.
a married couple that lives together in harmony can achieve larger goals
When wife and husband pull together, the East Sea itself can be bailed dry — concord is the greatest engine.
Bitter medicine cures, honest words offend — the two therapies nobody swallows gladly.
eggcorn of thuốc đắng dã tật, sự thật mất lòng
Past the fence, over the hedge and the tail relaxes — out of danger, courage returns.
bitter medicines ease ailments, the truth offends
Fluent as porridge pouring — knowing it cold; reciting without a stumble.
short for Truyền hình Việt Nam (“Vietnam Television”)
Better corn kernels chewed plain than wealth with your old mother in the grave — no fortune outbids a living parent.
Fire at the city gate scalds the fish in the moat — the bystander boiled by the neighbor's war.
Accomplishment rests with heaven — we scheme, the sky signs off.
Old teachers and young singers — each trade at the age it performs best.
Too far overshoots as short falls short — excess and deficiency are the same miss; keep the middle.
Reaching into the bag for the prize — victory as easy as turning over a palm.
Months dying into years — waiting until the wait itself wears you out.
In the fifth month, dawn before you've lain down; in the tenth, dark before you've smiled — the year's unequal days.
First-month cold for the calyx, second-month cold for the buds — the named colds of the northern spring.
The saints provide for the simple — heaven's soft spot for the guileless.
Breaking the cage and springing the coop — set free from confinement at last.
remote; off the beaten track; isolated
Deeply seconding those words — agreement at full weight.
Each body minds its own — every soul its own keeper.
A self not its own master — compelled along a road the heart never chose.
My body isn't worth much money — but for the weight of my love, thousands wouldn't buy it.
I am the porch broom — for you to wipe your feet on, dawn and dusk — servitude in a household image.
I am the crane atop the đình — longing to fly, and unable even to lift myself — grace pinned in place.
I am a fish inside the trap — no room left to thrash, and nowhere to turn — confinement complete.
I am a gilded couch and you a torn mat lost by the road — pray heaven send a great wind to spread the torn mat over the gold couch — mismatched love's impossible prayer.
I am the dragonfly's wing — perched when pleased, flown when sad — affection with no mooring.
I am a rose in bloom, married to a husband like a heap of dry straw — beauty bound to dullness.
I am a daisy on the hedgerow — passersby pinch the stamens, visitors snap the bloom — beauty exposed to every hand.
I am the đình's center post — dirty hands wipe on me, leprous hands wipe too — the used and unthanked.
I am the spiny water-caltrop — white within, black without; taste before you judge, and find me sweet — plainness pleading its hidden worth.
I am a well at the roadside — the refined wash their faces, the coarse wash their feet — one worth, two usages.
I am a burst of rain — one drop falls in the well, one in the flower garden; one lands in a mansion, one in the plowed field — a woman's fate scattered by chance.
I am a sliver of dried areca — the refined covet the thin, the coarse covet the thick — every taste claims its cut.
I am a duckweed leaf — upstream, downstream, wherever the current tips — a fate with no rudder of its own.
I am a bần fruit adrift — wind battering, waves tossing, with no shore to wash up on — the floating-fate lament.
I am the durian fruit — some call me foul, others call me delicious — no middle opinion exists.
I am a bolt of scarlet silk — prized in many quarters, loved in many more — the sought-after bride's verse.
I am a bolt of peach silk — fluttering in the open market, into whose hands I cannot say — beauty at the mercy of the buyer.