游子吟 孟郊 慈 母 手 中 线， 游 子 身 上 衣 临 行 密 密 缝， 意 恐 迟 迟 归。 谁 言 寸 草 心， 报 得 三 春 晖。 A thread is in my fond mother's hand moving. For her son to wear the clothes are leaving. With her whole heart she's sewing and sewing. For fear I'll ever be roving and roving. Who says the little soul of grass waving. Could for the warmth repay the sun of spring.
A TRAVELER'S SONG The thread in the hands of a fond-hearted mother Makes clothes for the body of her wayward boy; Carefully she sews and thoroughly she mends, Dreading the delays that will keep him late from home. But how much love has the inch-long grass For three spring months of the light of the sun
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