The name One Day in Chinese / Japanese...

一日千秋 is a Japanese and Chinese proverb about missing someone.

一日千秋 is often used to express how hard it is to wait for someone's return or to be away from someone.

Some will translate this as “one day feels like a very long time” or “waiting for someone (something) is hard.”

You might see this romanized as a single word, Ichijitsusenshuu, or as “Ichijitsu Senshuu” from Japanese.
If you break down the characters one-by-one, we get:
一 = one/a
日 = day/sun (can also represent time or date)
千 = 1000/thousand
秋 = autumn/fall

Together, 千秋 can mean “autumn comes thousand times” (or 1000 years). It can also be read as 1000 periods of time.
However, it relays the idea of heartache as you wait for someone you miss.

千慮一得 means “1000 tries, one success,” or “[a] thousand tries [leads to] one success.”

This proverb is a humble way to express your success, ideas, or accomplishments. As if you are a fool who just got lucky in inventing or creating something.

Translations for this proverb include:
Even without any notable ability on my part, I may still get it right sometimes by good luck.
Even a fool may sometimes come up with a good idea.

Compare this to the English idiom, “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

破鏡重圓 is about a husband and wife who were separated and reunited.

About 1500 years ago in China, there lived a beautiful princess named Le Chang. She and her husband Xu De Yan loved each other very much. But when the army of the Sui Dynasty was about to attack their kingdom, disposed of all of their worldly possessions and prepared to flee into exile.

They knew that in the chaos, they might lose track of each other, so the one possession they kept was a bronze mirror which is a symbol of unity for a husband and wife. They broke the mirror into two pieces, and each of them kept half of the mirror. They decided that if separated, they would try to meet at the fair during the 15th day of the first lunar month (which is the lantern festival). Unfortunately, the occupation was brutal, and the princess was forced to become the mistress of the new commissioner of the territory, Yang Su.

At the Lantern Festival the next year, the husband came to the fair to search for his wife. He carried with him his half of the mirror. As he walked through the fair, he saw the other half of the mirror for sale at a junk market by a servant of the commissioner. The husband recognized his wife's half of the mirror immediately, and tears rolled down his face as he was told by the servant about the bitter and loveless life that the princess had endured.

As his tears dripped onto the mirror, the husband scratched a poem into his wife's half of the mirror:

You left me with the severed mirror,
The mirror has returned, but absent are you,
As I gaze in the mirror, I seek your face,
I see the moon, but as for you, I see not a trace.

The servant brought the inscribed half of the mirror back to the princess. For many days, the princess could not stop crying when she found that her husband was alive and still loved her.

Commissioner Yang Su, becoming aware of this saga, realized that he could never obtain the princess's love. He sent for the husband and allowed them to reunite.

This proverb, 破鏡重圓, is now used to describe a couple who has been torn apart for some reason (usually divorce) but have come back together (or remarried).
It seems to be more common these days in America for divorced couples to reconcile and get married to each other again. This will be a great gift if you know someone who is about to remarry their ex.

鑿壁偷光 is a Chinese proverb that means “Bore a hole in the wall to make use of the neighbor's light to study.”

This is a nice gift for a very studious person.

Kuang Heng was born during the Western Han period. He has been very fond of reading ever since he was young. However, he could not attend school since his family was poor, and he had to borrow books from people to learn.

To borrow these books, he normally did chores for people who had them. When he became older, he had to work in the field from sunrise to sunset since his family's financial situation did not improve. Thus, he tried to study at night, but he had no lamp.

One day, he noticed the light from the neighbor's house coming through a crack in the wall. This made him very happy, so he dug a larger hole from the crack and read in the light that shone through. This diligent study eventually made him an accomplished person.

五十步笑百步 is a Chinese proverb that means the one who retreats 50 paces mocks the one who retreats 100 paces.

During the Warring States Period of what is now China (475 - 221 B.C.), the King of Wei was in love with war. He often fought with other kingdoms just for spite or fun.

One day, the King of Wei asked the philosopher Mencius, “I love my people, and all say I do the best for them. I move the people from famine-stricken areas to places of plenty and transport grains from rich areas to the poor. Nobody goes hungry in my kingdom, and I treat my people far better than other kings. But why does the population of my kingdom not increase, and why does the population of other kingdoms not decrease?”

Mencius answered, “Since you love war, I will make this example: When going to war, and the drums beat to start the attack, some soldiers flee for their lives in fear. Some run 100 paces in retreat, and others run 50 steps. Then the ones who retreated 50 paces laugh and taunt those who retreated 100 paces, calling them cowards mortally afraid of death. Do you think this is reasonable?

The King of Wei answered, “Of course not! Those who run 50 paces are just as timid as those who run 100 paces.”

Mencius then said, “You are a king who treats his subjects better than other kings treat their people, but you are so fond of war that your people suffer from great losses in battle. Therefore, your population does not grow. While other kings allow their people to starve to death, you send your people to die in war. Is there any difference?”

This famous conversation led to the six-character proverb shown here. It serves as a warning to avoid hypocrisy. It goes hand-in-hand with the western phrase, “The pot calls the kettle black,” or the Biblical phrase, “Before trying to remove a splinter from your neighbor's eye, first remove the plank from your own eye.”

一日一善 is a Chinese, Japanese Kanji, and old Korean Hanja phrase that suggests doing a good deed each day or doing one good turn a day.

It literally reads, “One Day, One Good (Deed).”

生日快樂 is how to write “Happy Birthday” in Chinese.

The first two characters mean “birthday,” and the second two characters mean “happiness,” or rather a wish for happiness.

Because a birthday only lasts one day per year, we strongly suggest that you find an appropriate and personal calligraphy gift that can be hung in the recipient's home year-round.

祝誕生日 is the shortest way to write “Happy Birthday” in Japanese.

The first Kanji means “wish” or “express good wishes,” and the last three characters mean “birthday.”

Because a birthday only lasts one day per year, we strongly suggest that you find an appropriate and personal calligraphy gift that can be hung in the recipient's home year-round.

在家千日好出门一时难 is a Chinese proverb that literally means “At home, one can spend a thousand days in comfort but spending a day away from home can be challenging.”

Figuratively, this means “There's no place like home,” or roughly a Chinese version of “Home sweet home.”

In China, 哄堂大笑 is a proverb that is used in response to a good joke or witty comment.

The story goes that Mr. Feng and Mr. He were both senior officials in the Song Dynasty (about a thousand years ago). One day, Mr. Feng walked into their shared office wearing a new pair of boots. The boots caught the eye of Mr. He who said, “New boots! - how much were they?.” Mr. Feng lifted one of the boots off the ground as if to show it off and responded, “900 coins.”
Astonished, Mr. Feng explained, “900? How can that be? - I paid 1800 coins for my boots!.” Mr. Feng then lifted his other foot off the ground and said, “This boot was also 900 coins.”

It is said that the whole room was shaking from the laughter of all that heard Mr. Feng's joke on Mr. He.

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.”

師父 means master in Chinese (occasionally used in Korean Hanja and Japanese). In the context of Martial Arts, this is the master and teacher who instructs students.

The second character by itself means father. Thus, you get the “Fatherly Master” translation. There's an old Chinese saying that goes something like, “One who is your teacher for one day is your father for life.”

Language notes: I've often seen this romanized as “sifu,” this is actually the Cantonese romanization. In Mandarin Chinese, it's “Shifu.” The pronunciation in Mandarin is actually like “sure foo” (using typical English pronunciation). There's an “R-sound” in there, which is not obvious from the romanization. Many martial arts studios incorrectly pronounce this like “she foo” (which is actually the Japanese pronunciation). In Cantonese, it sounds like “Sea foo” (almost like “seafood,” minus the “d” at the end).

師父 is kind of a weird selection for a calligraphy wall scroll; this entry is more for educational purposes. But you are welcome to buy it if it suits your circumstances.

金 is the symbol for metal (often means gold or money) in Chinese, Korean and Japanese.

In an interesting twist, in Japanese, this Kanji can also mean “Friday.” I guess Friday is “the golden day” in Japan.

Gold / Metal is one of the five elements that ancient Chinese believed all things were composed of. These elements are also part of the cycle of Chinese astrology. Every person has both an animal sign, and one of the five elements according to the date of their birth. See also Five Elements and Chinese 12 Animals / Zodiac.

月 is how to write the title for “moon” in Chinese, Korean Hanja, and Japanese Kanji.

月 is also used to refer to the month. This is because China traditionally uses a lunar calendar, so saying “next moon” is the same as saying “next month” etc.
In modern Chinese and Japanese and old Korean, the character for a number is put in front of this moon character to represent western months. So “one moon” is January “two moons” is February etc.

If you are wondering, in the east Asian way to write dates, the character for “sun” or “day” is used with a number in front of it to express the day of the month. So “ten moons, one sun” becomes “October 1st” or “10/1” (this date happens to be Chinese National Day - The equivalent of Independence Day in the USA, Canada Day, or the Queen's Birthday).

In Japanese, 月 can be a surname that romanizes as Tsuki, Tsukizaki, or Takagetsu.

Long ago in what is now China, there were many kingdoms throughout the land. This time period is known as “The Warring States Period” by historians because these kingdoms often did not get along with each other.

Sometime around 279 B.C. the Kingdom of Chu was a large but not particularly powerful kingdom. Part of the reason it lacked power was the fact that the King was surrounded by “yes men” who told him only what he wanted to hear. Many of the King's court officials were corrupt and incompetent which did not help the situation.

The King was not blameless himself, as he started spending much of his time being entertained by his many concubines.

One of the King's ministers, Zhuang Xin, saw problems on the horizon for the Kingdom, and warned the King, “Your Majesty, you are surrounded by people who tell you what you want to hear. They tell you things to make you happy and cause you to ignore important state affairs. If this is allowed to continue, the Kingdom of Chu will surely perish, and fall into ruins.”

This enraged the King who scolded Zhuang Xin for insulting the country and accused him of trying to create resentment among the people. Zhuang Xin explained, “I dare not curse the Kingdom of Chu but I feel that we face great danger in the future because of the current situation.” The King was simply not impressed with Zhuang Xin's words.
Seeing the King's displeasure with him and the King's fondness for his court of corrupt officials, Zhuang Xin asked permission from the King that he may take leave of the Kingdom of Chu, and travel to the State of Zhao to live. The King agreed, and Zhuang Xin left the Kingdom of Chu, perhaps forever.

Five months later, troops from the neighboring Kingdom of Qin invaded Chu, taking a huge tract of land. The King of Chu went into exile, and it appeared that soon, the Kingdom of Chu would no longer exist.

The King of Chu remembered the words of Zhuang Xin and sent some of his men to find him. Immediately, Zhuang Xin returned to meet the King. The first question asked by the King was “What can I do now?”

Zhuang Xin told the King this story:

A shepherd woke one morning to find a sheep missing. Looking at the pen saw a hole in the fence where a wolf had come through to steal one of his sheep. His friends told him that he had best fix the hole at once. But the Shepherd thought since the sheep is already gone, there is no use fixing the hole.
The next morning, another sheep was missing. And the Shepherd realized that he must mend the fence at once. Zhuang Xin then went on to make suggestions about what could be done to reclaim the land lost to the Kingdom of Qin, and reclaim the former glory and integrity of the Kingdom of Chu.

The Chinese idiom shown above came from this reply from Zhuang Xin to the King of Chu almost 2,300 years ago.
It translates roughly into English as...
“Even if you have lost some sheep, it's never too late to mend the fence.”

This proverb, 亡羊补牢犹未为晚, is often used in modern China when suggesting in a hopeful way that someone change their ways, or fix something in their life. It might be used to suggest fixing a marriage, quitting smoking, or getting back on track after taking an unfortunate path in life among other things one might fix in their life.

I suppose in the same way that we might say, “Today is the first day of the rest of your life” in our western cultures to suggest that you can always start anew.

Note: This does have Korean pronunciation but is not a well-known proverb in Korean (only Koreans familiar with ancient Chinese history would know it). Best if your audience is Chinese.

This Chinese word means to progress, increase, or change day by day.

It suggests something getting better one day at a time or with each passing day.

During the Tang Dynasty, a man named Jia Dao (born in the year 779), a well-studied scholar and poet, went to the capital to take the imperial examination.

One day as he rides a donkey through the city streets, a poem begins to form in his mind. A portion of the poem comes into his head like this:

“The bird sits on the tree branch near a pond,
A monk approaches and knocks at the gate...”

At the same time, he wondered if the word “push” would be better than “knock” in his poem.

As he rides down the street, he imagines the monk pushing or knocking. Soon he finds himself making motions of pushing and shaking a fist in a knocking motion as he debates which word to use. He is quite a sight as he makes his way down the street on his donkey with hands and fists flying about as the internal debate continues.

As he amuses people along the street, he becomes completely lost in his thoughts and does not see the mayor's procession coming in the opposite direction. Jia Bao is blocking the way for the procession to continue down the road, and the mayor's guards immediately decide to remove Jia Bao by force. Jia Bao, not realizing that he was in the way, apologizes, explains his poetic dilemma and awaits his punishment for blocking the mayor's way.

The mayor, Han Yu, a scholar and author of prose himself, finds himself intrigued by Jia Dao's poem and problem. Han Yu gets off his horse and addresses Jia Bao, stating, “I think knock is better.” The relieved Jia Bao raises his head and is invited by the mayor to join the procession, and are seen riding off together down the street, exchanging their ideas and love of poetry.

In modern Chinese, this 反復推敲 idiom is used when someone is trying to decide which word to use in their writing or when struggling to decide between two things when neither seems to have a downside.

狡兔三窟 speaks to the cunning character of a sly rabbit. Such a rabbit will not have just one hole but rather a few entrances and exits from his liar.

About 2,250 years ago, a rich man told his assistant to go and buy something wonderful that he did not yet possess. He was a man that already had everything, so the assistant went to a local village that owed a great deal of money to the rich man. The assistant told the village elders that all debts were forgiven. All the villagers rejoiced and praised the rich man's name. The assistant returned to the rich man and told him he had purchased “benevolence” for him. The rich man was mildly amused but perhaps slightly confused by the action.

Sometime later, the rich man fell from the favor of the Emperor and was wiped out without a penny to his name. One day he was walking aimlessly and stumbled into the village where the debts had been forgiven. The villagers recognized the man and welcomed him with open arms, clothed, fed him, and gave him a place to live.

Without trying, the man had become like the sly and cunning rabbit. When his exit was blocked, he had another hole to emerge from - and was reborn. This story and idiom come from a book titled “The Amendment” - it's unclear whether this man actually existed or not. But the book did propel this idiom into common use in China.

Still today, this idiom about the rabbit is used in China when suggesting “backup plans,” alternate methods, and anyone with a good escape plan.