The name Hiding in the Leaves - Hagakure in Chinese / Japanese...

葉隠れ is the Japanese word hagakure, which means “hidden in the leaves.”

葉隠れ is also used as a semi-idiom to mean “doing good deeds without calling attention to oneself.”

This refers to the red autumnal leaves or autumn colors.

You can also say fall colors, leaves changing color, or leaves turning red.

The characters themselves mean red leaves. The rest of the meaning is implied and understood to include autumn and the fact that they are changing.

葉子 is the Chinese word for leaf, leaves, or foliage.

In Japan, this is the female given name, Kyōko.

茶 means tea. It can refer to prepared tea (ready-to-drink) or dry tea leaves.

The origin of tea is China but the same character is used in Japanese Kanji, and old Korean Hanja with the exact same meaning. Japanese and Korean even borrowed the pronunciation from Chinese (pronounced “cha” in all three languages).

It's said that an early doctor (or herbologist) in ancient China kept poisoning himself as he tried different new herb concoctions. He invented tea as a means to detoxify himself as he recovered from 1 of the 76 times he nearly poisoned himself to death. Tea is seen not just as a drink but as a form of medicine used to remove impurities from the body.

The word “chai” (used in many languages to refer to various teas) is derived from this Chinese word.

茶 also means camellia, as Asian teas are often based on the leaves of camellia plant varieties.

外向 is the Chinese, Japanese Kanji, and old Korean Hanja for outward-looking, extrovert, or extroverted.

This literally means “to face the outside” (as opposed to hiding one's face).

カメリア is the name Camellia in Japanese.

This sounds like Camellia, but does not mean the camellia plant or leaf.

Instead of these characters, you may want to go with the name of the plant. Of course, camellia also means tea, as varieties of camellia plants provide the leaves for many kinds of Chinese and Japanese teas.

Note: Because this title is entirely Japanese Katakana, it should be written by a Japanese calligrapher.

忠 is the simplest way to write the word loyalty in Chinese and Japanese.

A single character like this leaves the meaning open. But alone, a Chinese or Japanese person would think of loyalty to duty or loyalty to one's master (in ancient times). I suppose that it could be loyalty to your boss or company in this day in age.

忠 can also mean fidelity or faithfulness.

This can also be romanized as “chung.”

儒 is a unique single character that means scholar or Confucian and leaves a favorable impression when read in Chinese.

Specifically, in Japanese Kanji, this means Confucianism, Confucianist or Chinese scholar.

In old Korean Hanja, this means scholar, Confucian scholar, Confucianist, or learned (one who has learned and knows much).

Basically, it's the same in all three languages.

毅 is the simplest way to express perseverance in Chinese and Korean Hanja.
This single-character version leaves a bit of mystery about what kind of perseverance you might want to convey.

In Korean, this is usually associated with “strength of character.”

In Japanese, this character can be pronounced in a dozen different ways (so we have left out the Japanese pronunciation guide that normally appears above). In Japanese, this Kanji would usually be translated as “strong” (perhaps strong-willed).

See Also:  Tenacity | Fortitude | Strength | Undaunted

無 is the simple way to express “nothing.”

However, this single character leaves a bit of mystery as to what you might really mean if you hang it as a wall scroll. I'm not saying that's a bad thing; as you can decide what it means to you, and you won't be wrong if you stay within the general context.

More info: 無 is usually used as a suffix or prefix for Chinese and Japanese words (also old Korean). It can be compared to “un-” or “-less” in English. It can also mean “not to have,” no, none, not, “to lack,” or nothingness.

誰言寸草心報得三春暉 is the last line of a famous poem. It is perceived as a tribute or ode to your parents or mother from a child or children that have left home.

The poem was written by Meng Jiao during the Tang Dynasty (about 1200 years ago). The Chinese title is “You Zi Yin” which means “The Traveler's Recite.”

The last line as shown here speaks of the generous and warm spring sunlight which gives the grass far beyond what the little grass can could ever give back (except perhaps by showing its lovely green leaves and flourishing). The metaphor is that the sun is your mother or parents, and you are the grass. Your parents raise you and give you all the love and care you need to prepare you for the world. A debt that you can never repay, nor is repayment expected.

The first part of the poem (not written in the characters to the left) suggests that the thread in a loving mother's hands is the shirt of her traveling offspring. Vigorously sewing while wishing them to come back sooner than they left.
...This part is really hard to translate into English that makes any sense but maybe you get the idea. We are talking about a poem that is so old that many Chinese people would have trouble reading it (as if it was the King James Version of Chinese).

This poem was written almost 1200 years ago during the Tang dynasty.

It depicts traveling up a place known as Cold Mountain, where some hearty people have built their homes. The traveler is overwhelmed by the beauty of the turning leaves of the maple forest that surrounds him just as night overtakes the day, and darkness prevails. His heart implores him to stop, and take in all of the beauty around him.

First, before you get to the full translation, I must tell you that Chinese poetry is a lot different than what we have in the west. Chinese words simply don't rhyme in the same way that English or other western languages do. Chinese poetry depends on rhythm and a certain beat of repeated numbers of characters.

I have done my best to translate this poem keeping a certain feel of the original poet. But some of the original beauty of the poem in its original Chinese will be lost in translation.

Far away on Cold Mountain, a stone path leads upwards.
Among white clouds, people's homes reside.
Stopping my carriage I must, as to admire the maple forest at nights fall.
In awe of autumn leaves showing more red than even flowers of early spring.

Hopefully, this poem will remind you to stop, and “take it all in” as you travel through life.
The poet's name is “Du Mu” in Chinese that is: .
The title of the poem, “Mountain Travels” is:
You can have the title, poet's name, and even “Tang Dynasty” written as an inscription on your custom wall scroll if you like.

More about the poet:

Dumu lived from 803-852 AD and was a leading Chinese poet during the later part of the Tang dynasty.
He was born in Chang'an, a city in central China and the former capital of the ancient Chinese empire in 221-206 BC. In present-day China, his birthplace is currently known as Xi'an, the home of the Terracotta Soldiers.

He was awarded his Jinshi degree (an exam administered by the emperor's court which leads to becoming an official of the court) at the age of 25 and went on to hold many official positions over the years. However, he never achieved a high rank, apparently because of some disputes between various factions, and his family's criticism of the government. His last post in the court was his appointment to the office of Secretariat Drafter.

During his life, he wrote scores of narrative poems, as well as a commentary on the Art of War and many letters of advice to high officials.

His poems were often very realistic and often depicted everyday life. He wrote poems about everything, from drinking beer in a tavern to weepy poems about lost love.

The thing that strikes you most is the fact even after 1200 years, not much has changed about the beauty of nature, toils, and troubles of love and beer drinking.