quần ngư tranh thực
A shoal of fish fighting for the feed — a free-for-all over the same scrap.
All languages English Tiếng Việt
A shoal of fish fighting for the feed — a free-for-all over the same scrap.
Clustering in threes, knotting in fives — little knots of people gathering to gossip or scheme.
Ghosts weep and spirits mourn — writing so fine the supernatural grieves; or wickedness so great it appalls them.
The nation takes the people as its root — no populace, no state; the base firm, the country calm.
The moorhen calls all summer — persistence itself, in one bird's throat.
State planning and the people's livelihood — the great matters of nation and daily bread.
Ghosts weep and spirits grieve — dreadful enough to appall the supernatural.
A corpse possessed at the shrouding — the dead rising deranged; someone acting past all belief.
goddamn; curse; screw
Acting like it; putting on airs — pretending to a role you haven’t earned.
Stooping out, bowing in — a career conducted entirely bent over.
to do something with clear results
Meet a man at the gate — the errand-day omen, read at the first face out the door.
Only on the river do you learn shallow from deep; in the creeks and backwaters there's no sounding at all.
Head-and-chopsticks clear — laid out properly from start to finish.
Every vegetable has its own worm — each nature attracts its matching pest; like finds like.
Knotweed grows in hard ground — easy to uproot, hard to transplant; love her as you may, she is another man's wife.
The top replica grade — a counterfeit built to pass for the original at a glance (90-95% faithful), still fake where it counts: materials, durability, and the details a trained eye spots.
Shop-speak for "replying in your DMs" — "rep" (reply) + "ib" (inbox); where the price talk moves when the comments get crowded.
Sleep, child, sleep — so mother can slip to an empty corner and mourn her own lot — the lullaby's hidden second verse.
Sleep sound, child, while mother hauls water to wash the elephant's howdah — want to see? Climb the mountain and watch Lady Triệu ride her elephant and strike the gong — the lullaby that carries a woman general.
Sleep deep, child, while mother weaves and father dyes the brown — cutting trousers and shirts she sews, for father to wear plowing the fifth-month season — the household loom in a lullaby.
Shaking the tree to scare the monkey — theater of menace with nothing behind it.
to let unattended and expose to the elements
Each farmer banks their own field; each meets their own fate — waiting for another's is labor wasted.
Broad fields and an adjoining pond — the picture of landed comfort.
A field mid-plain, a husband mid-village — the two best placements a woman can secure.
Deep fields and a plowing buffalo — the farmer's whole fortune in one inventory.
Our field we transplant, our field we plow — labor's plain claim to its own ground.
Guts tossed out, skin taken in — strangers honored above blood.
Guts thrown out, strangers' skin wrapped in — neglecting one's own kin while fawning on outsiders.
Gut cannot cut gut — flesh of one's flesh is unseverable.
wearing one's heart on one's sleeve
Fencing hedges and blocking yards — walls thrown up to keep people apart.
Fence behind, ambush ahead — precautions posted in both directions.
to cleverly point out something infelicitous in advance so that the listener will be understanding when it occurs and find it difficult to fault the speaker; to be careful with one's words; to be on the defensive
Golden clouds at dusk mean sun, white clouds mean rain — the herder's forecast written on the horizon.
Stinging like a fiddler-crab's pinch — smarting, raw, insistent pain.
His beard in her hand — the henpecked household's coat of arms.
This gentleman's beard held to that lady's chin — parts of two stories jammed into one; attribution scrambled.
a square peg in a round hole
Slack as spilled porridge — worked to collapse, past raising one's head.
A centipede has many legs — the many-propped never topple; helpers are legs.
Pouring without sparing the dregs — emptying everything out, down to the last insult.
The teeth bite the tongue — the closest companions still wound each other.
Central Vietnamese "how come...?" — opens a puzzled or reproachful question the way standard speech uses "sao mà".
Teeth and lips in the wrong places — a face rearranged by a beating.
The Central "what's up? / how come?" — a two-word bundle of the region's question words, equivalent to standard "sao vậy".
Walking the elephant home over the ancestors' graves — importing the ruin that tramples what's most yours.
Wine from Tơ village, chess from Mộ Trạch — each place its mastery.
to be forced to do something after initially turning down a request to do that thing
Weak wine still intoxicates in quantity; a wise man's talk, however fine, palls with repetition — moderation even in eloquence.
Morning wine and midday chess — the untroubled routine of a gentleman of leisure.
Morning wine and midday tea — the leisured rounds of an idle gentleman.
Slashing one's own face to press a claim — self-inflicted injury as extortion theater.
"You free?" — the two-syllable plan-starter; everything from coffee to a favor begins here.
if people have nothing better to do, they'll do stupid or harmful things
Better thick with people than thick with weeds — land warmed by dwellers outranks land gone wild.
Thick beard, deep-set eyes — the physiognomy chart's warning entry.
Old snakes shed their skins; old men get bound in coffin-boards — renewal is the serpent's privilege, not ours.