Hi everyone, I'm the developer of Ink & Verse (诗客), an iPhone reader for Tang poems and Song lyrics. I wanted a place to explore the original Chinese text and an English translation without switching between sources.

The collection includes 600+ poems, with commentary and poet biographies. You can browse by poet, save favorites, and switch to a vertical reading layout with ink-wash backgrounds. There's also guqin music for reading.

It's free to download, with a selection of poems available for free. Pro unlocks the full collection: the monthly subscription is $4.99 in the US and renews automatically unless canceled. Yearly subscriptions and a lifetime purchase are also available; regional prices are shown in the App Store.

App Store: https://apps.apple.com/us/app/id6777856347

I'd appreciate feedback on the reading experience. Do you prefer the standard poem-and-translation view or the vertical layout? Is the English text comfortable to read at this size?

The screenshots show the poem and translation, vertical reading, Li Bai's biography, and saved poems.

得意忘形

In my previous posts, I mentioned Ruan Ji (阮籍, 210–263 AD). Here's another idiom about him.

青眼相加 (qīng yǎn xiāng jiā) means “to look favorably on someone” or “to show someone special respect.”

The Story Behind the Idiom

According to  世说新语 (Shi Shuo Xin Yu) , a book we've mentioned many times before, Ruan Ji 阮籍had a pretty unusual way of treating people. When he met someone he liked or admired, he would look at them with his pupils centered normally. This was called 青眼 (qīng yǎn), literally “dark pupil,” and it was a way of showing respect and appreciation.

But if someone he didn't like came to visit, he'd roll his eyes so that more of the whites showed. This was called 白眼 (bái yǎn), a way of showing disdain or that he didn't want to deal with someone.

A famous example involves Ji Kang (嵇康). When Ji Kang's brother, Ji Xi (嵇喜), came to visit, Ruan Ji gave him the 白眼 treatment, and Ji Xi left unhappy. But when Ji Kang himself came, Ruan Ji was delighted and welcomed him with 青眼.

What Does It Mean Today?

青眼相加 means to look favorably on someone or give them special respect. The opposite expression, 白眼相待 (bái yǎn xiāng dài), means to treat someone with disdain. You can also simply say 给某人白眼, meaning to give someone a dirty look or roll your eyes at them.

You'll also hear 白眼 in everyday Chinese:

• 翻白眼 (fān bái yǎn) means “to roll your eyes,” usually because you're annoyed or don't believe what someone is saying.
• 白眼狼 (bái yǎn láng) literally means “white-eyed wolf.” It's a common expression for an ungrateful person who repays kindness with ingratitude.

So, if someone gives you 青眼, you've made a good impression. If you get 白眼, well, things probably aren't going so well.

(AI-assisted editing)

My Chengyu (Chinese Idioms) Posts

What do readers make of this effort? Is it reliable for a student of the language? https://philpapers.org/go.pl?aid=WILZHF

Hi! My undergrad professor mentioned "hell books", texts aimed at women containing representation of hell/immoral behaviour, and I've been trying to find academic sources or pictures of them - any suggestions? Or anything on moral instruction aimed at women. Any period works, Ming would be ideal.

I mentioned Cao Zhi (曹植) in my previous post. Today, here's another idiom about him and his brother, Cao Pi (曹丕).

相煎何急 (xiāng jiān hé jí) literally means “Why boil your own kind so hard?”

Their father, Cao Cao (曹操), was a powerful warlord and politician during the late Han Dynasty. Even before his death, his two sons were competing for succession. Cao Pi eventually won, became King of Wei, and later founded the Wei dynasty.

According to the famous story in the book 世说新语 (Shishu Xinyu), the new king Cao Pi wanted to punish his brother. He ordered Cao Zhi to write a poem within seven steps, or face execution.
The catch? He had to describe the situation between the two brothers without using the word “brother.” Pretty tough.

Cao Zhi supposedly came up with:

煮豆燃豆萁，豆在釜中泣。本是同根生，相煎何太急？

“Beans are boiled using their own stalks as fuel.
The beans inside the pot are crying:
We were born from the same root,
why are you boil me so hard?”

Cao Pi was moved by the poem, and Cao Zhi survived.

Although the story may not be entirely accurate historically, later generations accepted it, and it became a famous legend showcasing Cao Zhi’s literary talent.

Backstory
Cao Cao, Cao Pi, and Cao Zhi are sometimes called the “Three Caos” (三曹) because of their literary achievements. Cao Pi got the crown, but Cao Zhi got the literary crown. He was considered one of the greatest poets of his time, with the famous saying 才高八斗.

(AI-assisted editing)

My Chengyu (Chinese Idioms) Posts

远看山有色，
近听水无声。
春去花还在，
人来鸟不惊。

Can you guess what it is?

Hello everybody, lemme preface by saying that I was suggested to write here and hopefully this is the right sub.

So, lemme introduce my "problem": I am an Italian undergraduate student currently writing their short thesis about the difference between the various 音読み, that is the "Chinese reading" of Kanji. My thesis is about the difference between the 3 major categories of:

- 呉音 Goon, sounds of Wu

- 漢音 Kan'on, sound of Han

- 唐音 Tōon, sounds of Tang

They are all based on the way Japanese people adapted the Chinese language of a certain place and time into their language (mind you, the way Japanese use the names and the real counterparts don't actually align).

I was able to find many sources about the meaning, why they were divided that way and such. My main problem is that I can't find sources (in English, Chinese or Japanese) about the characteristics of each reading.

Wikipedia has a section (bigger in Japanese, but also present in English) about this but has no quoting source, at least to my knowledge...

Someone recommended this sub to me because they told me you have all sorts of documents or knowledge, so I'll leave this matter into your hands!

对酒当歌

In my previous post, I mentioned Cao Zhi (曹植 192-232 CE), the son of Cao Cao. He was the greatest literary figure of the late Han-Three kingdoms period.

Literally, 才高八斗 means “having eight dǒu of talent.” 斗 (dǒu) here was an ancient Chinese unit of volume. In other words, this idiom basically treats talent as something you can measure with a measuring container.

About 200 years after Cao Zhi, the Southern Dynasties poet Xie Lingyun (谢灵运, 385–433 CE) supposedly said:

天下才有一石，曹子建独占八斗，我得一斗，天下共分一斗。 (曹子建 is the courtesy name of CaoZhi)

Basically: “If all the literary talent in the world amounted to ten dǒu, Cao Zhi alone would have eight. I get one, and everyone else has to share the last one.”

Pretty generous to Cao Zhi, and pretty generous to himself, too!

Today, 才高八斗 simply means extremely talented or well-educated, especially in literature or writing.

For example:

他才高八斗，写了一手好诗。
He is incredibly talented and writes wonderful poetry.

So if someone tells you 你真是才高八斗！, that's a big compliment: “You're incredibly talented!”

A little background

Xie Lingyun (谢灵运) lived long before the Tang and Song dynasties, so he gave eight 斗 to Cao Zhi. Later generations may have teased him a little for keeping one 斗 for himself, but nobody took away Cao Zhi's eight. Cao Zhi's reputation as a literary genius has lasted for centuries.
And even after the Tang and Song dynasties, two of the great literary eras in Chinese history,  Cao Zhi is still considered one of the great figures in the history of Chinese literature.

(AI-assisted editing)

You may remember 望梅止渴 , which comes from a story about Cao Cao(曹操). 对酒当歌, on the other hand, comes from his famous poem "短歌行" (Duǎn Gē Xíng).

It comes from these famous lines:

对酒当歌，人生几何？ Duì jiǔ dāng gē, rén shēng jǐ hé? 譬如朝露，去日苦多。 pì rú zhāo lù，qù rì kǔ duō
“With wine before us, let’s sing. How much time do we really have in life? Just like morning dew, life is fleeting.”

Today, 对酒当歌 is often used when enjoying a drink with friends, or when talking about enjoying the moment and reflecting on how short life is.

A little background

Cao Cao (曹操) was not only a famous warlord and statesman, but also an important poet of the Jian'an period (建安), which was the final period of the Eastern Han dynasty.

He was one of the leading figures of Jian'an literature, together with his sons Cao Pi (曹丕) and Cao Zhi (曹植). The three are known as the “Three Caos” (三曹). Together with the “Seven Scholars of Jian'an” (建安七子), they are regarded as the major literary figures of the Jian'an period.

Remeber this one! If you ever go to China, try raising your glass at a dinner and saying: “对酒当歌，人生几何！”
It’ll definitely liven things up!

Hey all, I'm back. Desperately need your help.

You may remember, I built the Analects Reader app. It's been on iPhone for a few weeks and doing great.

But Android is stuck. Google makes new developers run a closed test for 14 days first, and mine just got rejected because (they claim!) users didn't leave enough feedback. SO, I've made giving feedback extremely easy.

Every character card (pictured below) now has a problem report link.

You can report a problem with that definition, the translation, or just about anything else that way. Now it takes about ten seconds to let me know if you find something that needs fixing.

If you're on Android, here's how to help:

1. Join the tester group (nothing is posted there, it's just the list, and membership is not public): https://groups.google.com/g/analectsreaderbeta
2. Install from Play: https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=net.analects.reader

Thanks a bunch!!!

After two sad idioms, I want to introduce a happier one.
I bet you've heard of 得意忘形 (dé yì wàng xíng), it's a pretty famous Chinese idiom.

It literally means “to be so happy that you forget your proper composure.”

The idiom comes from a story about Ruan Ji (阮籍), one of the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove ( 竹林七贤 previous post). According to The Book of Jin (《晋书》), Ruan Ji loved drinking, whistling, and playing the qin, a traditional Chinese stringed instrument. When he got really into something he enjoyed, he would forget all about himself. It's kind of like how upbeat music makes you want to move your body.

Interestingly, the original meaning was actually neutral, not negative. But over time, the meaning changed.
Today, 得意忘形 usually has a negative meaning. It describes someone who gets carried away when things are going well and starts getting a little too proud or self-satisfied.

And here's a fun little bonus: 得意忘言 and 得意忘象 are two other idioms with the 得意忘... pattern. They're not nearly as well-known as 得意忘形, but they're pretty interesting too. They both have a similar idea of focusing on the meaning rather than the words or the outward form.
For example, when you learn a math formula, you might work through a bunch of practice problems to really understand how it works. Once you've got the idea, you don't need to remember all those specific problems anymore. You remember the principle or idea, not the examples. That's kind of what 得意忘象 means.

You may remember Ji Kang (嵇康), Shan tao (山涛), and Wang Rong (王戎) from my previous post 鹤立鸡群 . They were three of the Seven sages of the bamboo grove (竹林七贤), a famous group of seven intellectuals who lived around the time of the transition from the Three Kingdoms period to the Jin (晋) dynasty.

I also mentioned Ji Kang’s complicated relationship with Shan Tao and his famous “Letter severing relations with Shan juyuan” (与山巨源绝交书). shan juyuan (山巨源) was Shan Tao’s courtesy name.

Well, there’s another well-known idiom from this letter:

赴汤蹈火 (fù tāng dǎo huǒ)

It literally means “to enter boiling water and walk through fire.” In everyday use, it means being willing to face extreme danger or even risk your life for something. Here, 汤 (tāng) means “boiling water,” not “soup.”

Here’s the original text: 此犹禽鹿，少见驯育，则服从教制；长而见羁，则狂顾顿缨，赴蹈汤火。

Ji Kang compared himself to a wild deer. If a deer is trained from a young age, it may learn to accept being controlled. But try to restrain it when it’s already grown, and it may struggle so fiercely that it would rather run into boiling water and fire than be restrained.

The Seven sages didn’t all feel the same way about the Sima family and the Jin government. Ji Kang refused to compromise and eventually paid for it with his life. In a way, he really did 赴汤蹈火.

Shan Tao, on the other hand, eventually entered government service. Ji Kang ended their friendship because Shan Tao recommended him for an official position. But even after Ji Kang was executed, Shan Tao helped raise his son, Ji Shao (嵇绍).

And here’s the ironic twist: Ji Shao later became a Jin official himself and eventually died protecting the Jin emperor. In his own way, he was also willing to 赴汤蹈火. Father and son may have taken different paths, but deep down, they were much alike.

In the end, Ji Kang not only gave this idiom, but also showed what it meant through his own life.

(AI-assisted editing)

Have you ever heard of the Chinese idiom 博士买驴 (Bó shì mǎi lǘ)?

It literally means “A scholar buys a donkey.”

A little background: In ancient China, “博士” (bó shì) was an official title for a learned scholar. It’s different from today’s meaning of “PhD” or “doctorate.”

The idiom comes from The Family Instructions of Master Yan (颜氏家训), written by Yan Zhitui (颜之推) during the Northern and Southern Dynasties (420–589 CE).

The original text says: 邺下谚云：“博士买驴，书券三纸，未有驴字。”

“There’s a saying in Ye: A scholar buys a donkey, writes three pages of contract, yet never once mentioned the word ‘donkey.’ ” - It seems he wasn't writing a contract after all, but a letter fit for the Emperor. 😄

Today, 博士买驴 describes someone who talks or writes at great length without actually getting to the point.

I'm working through the Shang Jun Shu and came to this chunk: 方土百里

Context and math suggests that this is "a square 100 lì on a side" so 10000 square lì. Is this right, and how would it look different if the author wanted to say "100 square lì"?

司马昭之心路人皆知

In my previous post, I introduced Cao Mao (曹髦), an emperor of the Wei (魏) dynasty during the Three Kingdoms period. Today, I'd like to share a famous Chinese idiom associated with Cao Cao (曹操 155–220 AD) , who was Cao Mao's great-grandfather.

The idiom is 望梅止渴 (wàng méi zhǐ kě), which literally means “to quench your thirst by thinking about plums.”

The Story Behind the Idiom

According to a story in A New Account of the Tales of the World (《世说新语》), Cao Cao was leading his troops on a long march. His soldiers were exhausted and desperately thirsty, but there was no water around.

Cao Cao came up with a clever psychological trick to boost their morale. He told them that a grove of sour plum trees was just ahead, knowing that the thought of the plums would make their mouths water.

The trick worked, and the soldiers were able to keep marching until they finally reached water.

That's how the idiom 望梅止渴 (wàng méi zhǐ kě) became famous.

What Does 望梅止渴 Mean Today?

Today, it means trying to satisfy yourself with something that isn't really there, or comforting yourself with hope when you can't get what you really want.

For example, if you can't afford to take a vacation abroad but keep looking at beautiful travel photos to make yourself feel better, you could say that's a bit like 望梅止渴.

A Little About Cao Cao(曹操)

Because ‘Romance of the Three Kingdoms’ (三国演义) is such a popular novel, many people know Cao Cao as a rather negative character. In the novel, he is often portrayed as a clever but ruthless antagonist.

But the historical Cao Cao was much more than that. He was a military leader, statesman, and even a great poet, and played a major role in the events that led to the Three Kingdoms period.

So, when you hear stories about Cao Cao, it's worth remembering that the Cao Cao in the novel and the historical Cao Cao are not exactly the same person.

Interestingly, in 2009, archaeologists discovered a tomb in Anyang, Henan Province, that was identified as Cao Cao's tomb. Human remains found there were also believed to include Cao Cao's remains. The discovery made headlines across China and sparked a lot of public interest and debate, simply because Cao Cao is such a famous and well-known figure in Chinese history.

(AI-assisted editing)

I'm preparing a set of classical lines with pinyin and character glosses, and I've hit the Mencius passage from 告子下.

The received text I'm working from reads 于是人也, but 于斯人也 is everywhere in modern quotation, and I remember it from school materials too.

Questions:

1. Is 斯人 a real textual variant or a later misquotation that stuck?
2. If you were showing this to learners, which would you display, and would you note the other?
3. For 是 here, is glossing it as a demonstrative ("this") enough, or is there nuance I'm missin?

Happy to share what I end up with if it's useful.