I Give Up in Chinese / Japanese...

決して諦めるな is a Japanese term that informally means “never give up.”

It's also a Japanese way to say “never surrender.”

Note: Because this selection contains some special Japanese Hiragana characters, it should be written by a Japanese calligrapher.

See Also:  Tenacity | Perseverance | Hope

The first character means “eternal” or “forever,” and the second means “not” (together, they mean “never”). The last two characters mean “give up” or “abandon.” Altogether, you can translate this proverb as “never give up” or “never abandon.”

Depending on how you want to read this, 永不放棄 is also a statement that you will never abandon your hopes, dreams, family, or friends.

See Also:  Undaunted | No Fear | Hope

捨欲 is a Buddhist term that means to give up desire or the act of cutting off desire.

In Buddhism, our attachments, greed, and/or desires are the root of our suffering. Release them and live a happy life!

百折不撓 is a Chinese proverb that means “Be undaunted in the face of repeated setbacks.”

More directly translated, it reads, “[Overcome] a hundred setbacks, without flinching.” 百折不撓 is of Chinese origin but is commonly used in Japanese and somewhat in Korean (same characters, different pronunciation).

This proverb comes from a long, and occasionally tragic story of a man that lived sometime around 25-220 AD. His name was Qiao Xuan, and he never stooped to flattery but remained an upright person at all times. He fought to expose the corruption of higher-level government officials at great risk to himself.

Then when he was at a higher level in the Imperial Court, bandits were regularly capturing hostages and demanding ransoms. But when his own son was captured, he was so focused on his duty to the Emperor and the common good that he sent a platoon of soldiers to raid the bandits' hideout, and stop them once and for all even at the risk of his own son's life. While all of the bandits were arrested in the raid, they killed Qiao Xuan's son at first sight of the raiding soldiers.

Near the end of his career, a new Emperor came to power, and Qiao Xuan reported to him that one of his ministers was bullying the people and extorting money from them. The new Emperor refused to listen to Qiao Xuan and even promoted the corrupt Minister. Qiao Xuan was so disgusted that in protest, he resigned from his post as minister (something almost never done) and left for his home village.

His tombstone reads “Bai Zhe Bu Nao” which is now a proverb used in Chinese culture to describe a person of strong will who puts up stubborn resistance against great odds.

My Chinese-English dictionary defines these 4 characters as “keep on fighting despite all setbacks,” “be undaunted by repeated setbacks,” and “be indomitable.”

Our translator says it can mean “never give up” in modern Chinese.

Although the first two characters are translated correctly as “repeated setbacks,” the literal meaning is “100 setbacks” or “a rope that breaks 100 times.” The last two characters can mean “do not yield” or “do not give up.”
Most Chinese, Japanese, and Korean people will not take this absolutely literal meaning but will instead understand it as the title suggests above. If you want a single big word definition, it would be indefatigability, indomitableness, persistence, or unyielding.

See Also:  Tenacity | Fortitude | Strength | Perseverance | Persistence

乾杯 is the common way to say “cheers” or give a toast in Chinese, Japanese and old Korean (written the same in all three languages, though pronounced differently).

乾杯 is an appropriate wall scroll for a bar, pub, or another drinking area.

The first character literally means “dry” or “parched.”
The second character means “cup” or “glass.”

Together the meaning is to drink up (empty your glass).

This Japanese proverb literally translates as: [After having achieved a fair degree of success,] one should still try to do better.

Others may translate this as “Always try to improve,” or “Always try to be better.”

Note: Because this selection contains some special Japanese Hiragana characters, it should be written by a Japanese calligrapher.

See Also:  Never Give Up

頑強 means “Tenacious,” “Hard to Defeat,” or “Dogged.”

Alone, the first character means mischievous, obstinate, or stubborn. But it loses some of the mischievous meaning when the second character is added.

The second character means strength, force, power, or better.

See Also:  Determination | Dedication | Devotion | Never Give Up

無畏 literally means “No Fear.” But perhaps not the most natural Chinese phrase (see our other “No Fear” phrase for a complete thought). However, this two-character version of “No Fear” seems to be a very popular way to translate this into Chinese when we checked Chinese Google.

Note: This also means “No Fear” in Japanese and Korean, but this character pair is not often used in Japan or Korea.

This term appears in various Chinese dictionaries with definitions like “without fear,” intrepidity, fearless, dauntless, and bold.

In the Buddhist context, this is a word derived from the word Abhaya, meaning: Fearless, dauntless, secure, nothing, and nobody to fear. Also, from vīra meaning: courageous, bold.

See Also:  Never Give Up | No Worries | Undaunted | Bravery | Courage | Fear No Man

天無絕人之路 is a proverb that means “Heaven never bars one's way,” “Don't despair and you will find a way through,” and “Never give up hope,” and is the Chinese way to say “Never say die.”

捨生取義 is a Chinese proverb that comes from the philosopher Mencius.

It can be translated in a few different ways:
To give up life for righteousness.
To choose honor over life
Better to sacrifice one's life than one's principles.

馬 is the character for a horse in Chinese, old Korean, and Japanese.

If you were born in the year of the horse, you . . .


Are outgoing and active.
Don't give up easily.
Are known to have a bad temper.

See also our Chinese Zodiac page.

仕様が無い is a Japanese phrase that means “it can't be helped,” “it is inevitable,” and “nothing can be done.”

Some will see this as a negative (just give up), and others will see it as a suggestion to avoid futile effort.

Note: Because this selection contains some special Japanese Hiragana characters, it should be written by a Japanese calligrapher.

In Chinese, this can mean losing one's love; to breaking up (in a romantic relationship); to feel jilted.

In Japanese Kanji, this means disappointing love, broken heart, unrequited love, or being lovelorn.

失戀 is also valid in old Korean Hanja, which means unrequited love, unreturned love, a disappointment in love, or a broken heart.

Note: In modern Japan, they will tend to write the more simple 失恋 form instead of 失戀. If you order this from the Japanese master calligrapher, expect the more simple modern version to be written (unless you give us instructions to use the older or more traditional version).

勇敢 is about courage or bravery in the face of fear.

You do the right thing even when it is hard or scary. When you are courageous, you don't give up. You try new things. You admit mistakes. This kind of courage is the willingness to take action in the face of danger and peril.

勇敢 can also be translated as braveness, valor, heroic, fearless, boldness, prowess, gallantry, audacity, daring, dauntless, and/or courage in Japanese, Chinese, and Korean. This version of bravery/courage can be an adjective or a noun. The first character means bravery and courage by itself. The second character means “daring” by itself. The second character emphasizes the meaning of the first but adds the idea that you are not afraid of taking a dare, and you are not afraid of danger.

勇敢 is more about brave behavior and not so much the mental state of being brave. You'd more likely use this to say, “He fought courageously in the battle,” rather than “He is very courageous.”

布施 is the Buddhist practice of giving known as Dāna or दान from Pali and Sanskrit.

Depending on the context, this can be alms-giving, acts of charity, or offerings (usually money) to a priest for reading sutras or teachings.

Some will put Dāna in these two categories:
1. The pure or unsullied charity, which looks for no reward here but only in the hereafter.
2. The sullied almsgiving whose object is personal benefit.
The first kind is, of course, the kind that a liberated or enlightened person will pursue.

Others will put Dāna in these categories:
1. Worldly or material gifts.
2. Unworldly or spiritual gifts.

You can also separate Dāna into these three kinds:
1. 財布施 Goods such as money, food, or material items.
2. 法布施 Dharma, as an act to teach or bestow the Buddhist doctrine onto others.
3. 無畏布施 Courage, as an act of facing fear to save someone or when standing up for someone or standing up for righteousness.

The philosophies and categorization of Dāna will vary among various monks, temples, and sects of Buddhism.

Breaking down the characters separately:
布 (sometimes written 佈) means to spread out or announce, but also means cloth. In ancient times, cloth or robs were given to the Buddhist monks annually as a gift of alms - I need to do more research, but I believe there is a relationship here.
施 means to grant, to give, to bestow, to act, to carry out, and by itself can mean Dāna as a single character.

Dāna can also be expressed as 檀那 (pronounced “tán nà” in Mandarin and dan-na or だんな in Japanese). 檀那 is a transliteration of Dāna. However, it has colloquially come to mean some unsavory or unrelated things in Japanese. So, I think 布施 is better for calligraphy on your wall to remind you to practice Dāna daily (or whenever possible).

茶緣 is a special title for the tea lover. This kind of means “tea fate,” but it's more spiritual and hard to define. Perhaps the tea brought you in to drink it. Perhaps the tea will bring you and another tea-lover together. Perhaps you were already there, and the tea came to you. Perhaps it's the ah-ha moment you will have when drinking the tea.

I've been told not to explain this further, as it will either dilute or confuse the purposefully-ambiguous idea embedded in this enigma.

I happen to be the owner of a piece of calligraphy written by either the son or nephew of the last emperor of China, which is the title he wrote. It was given to me at a Beijing tea house in 2001. 茶緣 is where I learned to love tea after literally spending weeks tasting and studying everything I could about Chinese tea. I did not understand the significance of the authorship or the meaning of the title at all. Some 10 years later, I realized the gift was so profound and had such providence. Only now do I realize the value of a gift that it is too late to give proper thanks for. It was also years later that I ended up in this business and could have the artwork properly mounted as a wall scroll. It has been borrowed for many exhibitions and shows and always amazes native Chinese and Taiwanese who read the signature. This piece of calligraphy I once thought was just a bit of ink on a thin and wrinkled piece of paper, is now one of my most valued possessions. And fate has taught me to be more thankful for seemingly simple gifts.