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?