A Poem by a Travelling Son - 遊子吟

                    by Jiao Meng
In the hands of my dear kindly mother,
will the thread for sewing be nervine?
Without knowing when I will come back home,
she has been sewing my clothes carefully and fine.
How can I repay what my mother has done for me,
which is the same as what grass owes the spring sunshine?


[原詩]： 遊子吟
            唐.孟郊

慈母手中線，
遊子身上衣。
臨行密密縫，
意恐遲遲歸。
誰言寸草心，
報得三春暉？