《遊子吟》繙譯

慈母手中線，

　　遊子身上衣。

　　臨行密密縫，

　　意恐遲遲歸。

　　誰言寸草心，

　　報得三春暉。

　　A Poem By A Leaving Son

　　A thread is in my fond mother's hand moving.

　　For her son to wear the clothes ere leaving.

　　With her whole heart she's sewing and sewing.

　　For fear I'll e'er be roving and roving.

　　Who says the little soul of grass waving.

　　Could for the warmth repay the sun of spring.