Untranslatable

In Chinese, there is a word, an idea, an idiomatic expression, a concept that has been distilled into four characters: 画龙点睛 (huà lóng diǎn jīng), which literally means “to paint the dragon and dot the eyes.” This phrase derives from an old story about an artist who paints a dragon without eyes, fearing that it will fly away if he completes it. When he finally does add the eyes, the dragon indeed comes to life and flies off. Beneath the literal translation is the deeper meaning: how a crucial detail or finishing touch can transform something from ordinary to extraordinary, bring it to life, and make it complete.

While this concept can be understood by people from any background, the power of this phrase is exponentially greater among Chinese people for one simple reason: the paramount significance of the dragon in Chinese culture. This reverence is reflected in the dragon dance performed on the Chinese New Year. Like the artist in the story, dragon dancers bring this mythical creature to life, infusing their passion and energy into the swaying movements of the dragon’s forked tongue, shiny teeth, scaly body, and huge eyes. They do this because, for them, the dragon demands and deserves such devotion. For Chinese people, nothing is more extraordinary, wonderful, or terrible than a dragon.

This is not to say that other cultures do not appreciate dragons. The fierce dragon blocking the knight from reaching his princess, held atop a high tower, occupies a special place in European story and legend. And who does not love the friendly, round-bottomed cartoon dragons in the wonderful children’s television show Dragon Tales or the dragon who falls in love with Donkey in the movie Shrek? Yet when Chinese people hear the phrase “paint the dragon and dot the eyes,” they do not envision lovable animated characters but something magical, mysterious, majestic—and intrinsically Chinese. The way DreamWorks brings a dragon to life is qualitatively different from the way dragon dancers “paint” the dragon, imbuing it with their heart and soul so that it truly can fly.

Understandably, it is difficult to capture all of this in a simple saying, no matter how pithy. An appreciation of the true weight of the expression depends on the hearer being grounded in Chinese culture. Replacing “dragon” with “bald eagle” would not automatically lend it deep significance for Americans. Even though the bald eagle is a symbol of the United States of America, it is not magical or larger than life. Even the most patriotic Americans know that eagles are just birds, and birds are ordinary. Dragons are not.

The significance of the dragon in Chinese culture therefore cannot be conveyed in a word or phrase or grouping of syllables, which is why neither “画龙点睛” nor its implications can truly be translated. “Paint the dragon and dot the eyes” is a call to live life to the fullest, to reach for and welcome the greatest potential in ourselves and to lend ourselves passionately and wholeheartedly to summoning something extraordinary into being.

But just because we cannot translate this and other Chinese phrases into English does not meat that we should not try to understand them. By understanding individual cultural references, we can also understand how they universally apply across cultures and extend to us all.

If you know what I mean.