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?


[原诗]： 游子吟
            唐.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？