羞月閉花（しゅうげつへいか）

shy : moon : close : flower

Coming up in this week's blog post is a yoji-jukugo so rare by etymological standards that using it with your Japanese colleagues may prompt them to claim you know more Japanese than they do: 羞月閉花. It belongs to Rank 2 of the Kanji Kentei, which means that most Japanese high school students will have come across it in their studies, but it is obscure enough that some online Japanese dictionaries merely cite a reference of it without providing a full-page definition.

Individually, the four kanji may seem to have little in common, but this is actually another example of a two-by-two composition, as I first introduced with 勇猛果敢 a few weeks back. Both "shy" (羞) and "close" (閉) evoke feelings of withdrawal, while "moon" (月) and "flower" (花) represent different aspects of nature. Thus, the metaphorical concept of "nature withdrawing itself" is uniquely stacked by using separate kanji. Knowing this, it is now much easier to explain the definition of this yoji-jukugo, which is: "the charms of a uniquely beautiful woman, so beautiful that the moon is abashed and flowers wilt."

The origin of 羞月閉花 is, not surprisingly, Chinese. What is slightly interesting, however, is that this is the only yoji-jukugo to come from this specific source. As we delve further into the etymology of these idioms, we'll see that while most do come from Chinese literature, they are quite variegated within that categorization. 羞月閉花 in particular comes from a poem written by Yang Guo (楊果, Japanese pronunciation: ようか), a poet who lived from 1195 to 1269. It took quite a bit of digging around the internet, but I finally found the English title of the poem: The Lotus Gatherer (采蓮女, Japanese pronunciation: さいれんじょ). Unfortunately, after a long-winded yet fruitless search, it would appear that only two of the eleven verses of the poem have been translated into English, neither of which being the verse that contains the phrase 羞月閉花. That being said, the overall imagery and thematic elements in the translated verses are just as beautiful as you would expect from classical Chinese poetry; no doubt, this yoji-jukugo is right at home among the other elegant phrases in The Lotus Gatherer.

My attempt at a four-word translation of 羞月閉花

Nature Blushes Before Her

文武両道（ぶんぶりょうどう）

literature : martial arts : both : path

This week's yoji-jukugo is famous enough to have its own Wikipedia page, and is also one of my personal favorites: 文武両道. Defined by Weblio as being "accomplished in both the literary and military arts," 文武両道 is still very well known and widely employed in Japan. I've used plenty of yoji-jukugo with my Japanese colleagues that have resulted in blank stares or frantic dictionary consultations, but 文武両道 never fails to get an appreciative nod of mutual understanding.

Traditionally, the 文 in 文武両道 referred to one's talent for waka (Japanese poetry) and calligraphy, though by some accounts during the late Warring States period, the scope of the kanji's meaning was liberally extended to skills in tea ceremony and painting as well. 武, however, referred almost ubiquitously to one's military prowess. While all of these disciplines still exist today, the yoji-jukugo's meaning has since been adapted to reflect modern values. 文 is now given to mean academic fortitude and scholarship, and 武 refers to one's aptitude for sports. The new liberal meaning of 武 is of particular importance in the wake of WWII and Japan's demilitarization; even now there is a push to tweak the meanings of kanji that bring to mind militarism or martial activities. But now with its updated modern meaning, 文武両道 is surely on the minds of today's job-hunting university students, as companies have been known to favor resumes that include both high academic marks and appearances at national club sports competitions.

The origin of this yoji-jukugo is slightly obscure; there are reports of both Japanese and Chinese sources using phrases similar in meaning to 文武両道, though the earlier appearance belongs to the Chinese Records of the Grand Historian. Loosely translated, the phrase 「文事ある者は必ず武備あり」 appearing in the Japanese edition of this monumental BC era classic means "he who is versed in letters is always skilled in the use of arms." Meanwhile, the first Japanese appearance of a phrase similar to 文武両道 is in the 13th century epic The Tale of the Heike: 「あっぱれ、文武ニ道の達者かな」, translating roughly to "admirable is he, skilled in both words and swords." In either case, it's quite clear that the age-old contest of brains vs. brawn was solved long ago by coming to the realization that a healthy mix of both is actually the best way to go.

This time I'll give two attempts at a four-word translation: one for the original Warring States era meaning, and one for the modern scholastic version.

My attempt at two four-word translations of 文武両道

Sharp Mind, Sharper Blade
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Great Athlete, Greater Student

勇猛果敢（ゆうもうかかん）

courage : fierce : outcome : bravery

Charging into my next blog post is 勇猛果敢. Defined by Weblio as being "daring and resolute," or "having dauntless courage," this yoji-jukugo seems to match up pretty consistently with the meanings of the four kanji that make it up. There isn't a terribly great amount of exposition I can give about the meaning of this expression that isn't already clear from its dictionary definition, so instead I'd like to focus on two points: its composition and etymology.

勇猛果敢 is of a family that, in my experience, accounts for a significant percentage of yoji-jukugo compositions—namely, a feeling or quality given particular emphasis by combining two independent yet quasi-synonymous two-kanji expressions. 勇猛 translates to "courageous" while 果敢 shows up as "resolute," although both provide the word "bold" in their list of other potential translations. They may not be perfectly interchangeable terms in either language, but once you put them together, the lines begin to blur and you've got yourself the makings of a Herculean protagonist. We'll soon see a lot of yoji-jukugo that fit this two-by-two model, including other quasi-synonymous expressions and occasionally antonymous ones as well.

Unlike the last idiom I introduced, 勇猛果敢 is of Chinese origin. Yoji-jukugo from China are not uncommon in the slightest, as Japan's adoption of Chinese literary culture has spanned several centuries. This particular yoji-jukugo comes from the biography of Zhai Fangjin in Volume 84 of the Book of Han (also known as the History of the Former Han). Extolled as both a well-versed Confucian scholar and competent politician, Zhai Fangjin was at one point the highest adviser to the emperor. The classic text describes him using 勇猛果敢, and is officially considered to be Japan's first encounter with the expression.

My attempt at a four-word translation of 勇猛果敢

Dauntless Courage And Resolution

晴耕雨読 (せいこううどく）

clear skies : cultivate : rain : read

We'll kick off the blog with a cheery yoji-jukugo about ideal life in the countryside: 晴耕雨読. You can probably grasp the general meaning of this idiom based on the direct translation of each individual kanji: cultivate the fields in fair weather and read indoors when it rains. At first glance, this yoji-jukugo may even seem similar to the old English adage of “making hay while the sun shines,” but while the physical act of tilling the field may be the same between the two expressions, the overarching meaning is quite different.

"Making hay while the sun shines" is simply a handy metaphor for taking advantage of a finite opportunity. 晴耕雨読, on the other hand, is much more ideological in its interpretation. The Heimei Yoji-jukugo online dictionary describes 晴耕雨読 as distancing yourself from the troubles of society to live a quiet and fulfilled life in the countryside. Cultivating (what I presume are) rice fields during the sunny months is a valuable way to maintain physical fitness and provide for society; reading on rainy days, meanwhile, sharpens the mind and promotes intellectual creativity when you would otherwise be stuck inside with nothing to do. Yet despite the literal meaning that comes from pairing the four kanji up, the point of 晴耕雨読 isn't necessarily to take a specific action during a specific kind of weather, but rather to find quiet physical and intellectual enrichment in life, whatever the occasion. 

The kanji themselves are not that advanced or obscure; this yoji-jukugo belongs to Rank 5 of the Kanji Kentei, meaning the typical Japanese child will know it by the end of their elementary school education (though I'm sure the true value of the proverb is lost on them until a few decades later). However, I would consider 晴耕雨読 to be somewhat rare in that it refers specifically to a unique stage of life. The more we delve into yoji-jukugo, the more we'll begin to see general trends in how they're composed. As far as I know, yoji-jukugo are sorted either phonetically, by kanji, or by difficulty according to national testing standards, so it'll be interesting to see if we can start to categorize them by the nature of their composition.

My attempt at a four-word translation of 晴耕雨読

Living Like Well-Read Farmers