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?