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?