游子吟

       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 Song of the Travelling Son
　　A thread in a mother's loving hand,
　　Makes up the clothes for her travelling son.
　　Knitting all her affection into every stitch,
　　She's worrying he'd be away for too long.
　　-- How could the grateful humble grass
　　Ever repay the kindness of the generous sun?