yōu yì wú duàn jué， cǐ qù suí suǒ 'ǒu。
　　 wǎn fēng chuī xíng zhōu， huā lù rù xī kǒu。
　　 jì yè zhuǎn xī hè， gé shān wàng nán dǒu。
　　 tán yān fēi róng róng， lín yuè dī xiàng hòu。
　　 shēng shì qiě mí màn， yuàn wéi chí gān sǒu。

　　Thoughtful elation has no end:
　　Onward I bear it to whatever come.
　　And my boat and I, before the evening breeze
　　Passing flowers, entering the lake,
　　Turn at nightfall toward the western valley,
　　Where I watch the south star over the mountain
　　And a mist that rises, hovering soft,
　　And the low moon slanting through the trees;
　　And I choose to put away from me every worldly matter
　　And only to be an old man with a fishing-pole.

　　qīng xī shēn bù cè， yǐn chù wéi gū yún。
　　 sōng jì lù wēi yuè， qīng guāng yóu wéi jūn。
　　 máo tíng sù huā yǐng， yào yuàn zī tái wén。
　　 yú yì xiè shí qù， xī shān luán hè qún。

　　Here, beside a clear deep lake,
　　You live accompanied by clouds;
　　Or soft through the pine the moon arrives
　　To be your own pure-hearted friend.
　　You rest under thatch in the shadow of your flowers,
　　Your dewy herbs flourish in their bed of moss.
　　Let me leave the world. Let me alight, like you,
　　On your western mountain with phoenixes and cranes.

　　tǎ shì rú yǒng chū， gū gāo sǒng tiān gōng。
　　 dēng lín chū shì jiè， dèng dào pán xū kōng。
　　 tū wù yā shén zhōu， zhēng róng rú guǐ gōng。
　　 sì jiǎo 'ài bái rì， qī céng mó cāng qióng。
　　 xià kuī zhǐ gāo niǎo， fǔ tīng wén jīng fēng。
　　 lián shān ruò bō tāo， bēn còu sì cháo dōng。
　　 qīng huái jiā chí dào， gōng guǎn hé líng lóng。
　　 qiū sè cóng xī lái， cāng rán mǎn guān zhōng。
　　 wǔ líng běi yuán shàng， wàn gǔ qīng méng méng。
　　 jìng lǐ liǎo kě wù ， shèng yīn sù suǒ zōng。
　　 shì jiāng guà guān qù， jué dào zī wú qióng。

　　The pagoda, rising abruptly from earth,
　　Reaches to the very Palace of Heaven....
　　Climbing, we seem to have left the world behind us,
　　With the steps we look down on hung from space.
　　It overtops a holy land
　　And can only have been built by toil of the spirit.
　　Its four sides darken the bright sun,
　　Its seven stories cut the grey clouds;
　　Birds fly down beyond our sight,
　　And the rapid wind below our hearing;
　　Mountain-ranges, toward the east,
　　Appear to be curving and flowing like rivers;
　　Far green locust-trees line broad roads
　　Toward clustered palaces and mansions;
　　Colours of autumn, out of the west,
　　Enter advancing through the city;
　　And northward there lie, in five graveyards,
　　Calm forever under dewy green grass,
　　Those who know life's final meaning
　　Which all humankind must learn.
　　...Henceforth I put my official hat aside.
　　To find the Eternal Way is the only happiness.

guǐ mǎo suì， xī yuán zéi rù dào zhōu， fén shāo shā lüè， jǐ jìn 'ér qù。 míng nián， zéi yòu gōng yǒng zhōu， pò shào， bù fàn cǐ zhōu biān bǐ 'ér tuì， qǐ lì néng zhì dí yú？ gài méng qí shāng lián 'ér yǐ！ zhū shǐ héwèi rěn kǔ zhǐ！ gù zuò shī yī piān yǐ shì guān lì。　　xī suì féng tài píng， shān lín 'èr shí nián。
　　 quán yuán zài tíng hù， dòng hè dāng mén qián。
　　 jǐng shuì yòu cháng qī， rì yàn yóu dé mián。
　　 hū rán zāo shì biàn， shù suì qīn róng zhān。
　　 jīn lái diǎn sī jùn， shān yí yòu fēn rán。
　　 chéng xiǎo zéi bù tú， rén pín shāng kě lián。
　　 shì yǐ xiàn lín jìng， cǐ zhōu dú jiàn quán。
　　 shǐ chén jiāng wáng mìng， qǐ bù rú zéi yān？
　　 jīn bèi zhēng liǎn zhě， pò zhī rú huǒ jiān。
　　 shuí néng jué rén mìng， yǐ zuò shí shì xián？
　　 sī yù wěi fú jié， yǐn gān zì cì chuán。
　　 jiāng jiā jiù yú mài， guī lǎo jiāng hú biān。

　　In the year Kuimao the bandits from Xiyuan entered Daozhou, set fire, raided, killed, and looted. The whole district was almost ruined. The next year the bandits came again and, attacking the neighbouring prefecture, Yong, passed this one by. It was not because we were strong enough to defend ourselves, but, probably, because they pitied us. And how now can these commissioners bear to impose extra taxes? I have written this poem for the collectors' information.
　　
　　
　　I still remember those days of peace --
　　Twenty years among mountains and forests,
　　The pure stream running past my yard,
　　The caves and valleys at my door.
　　Taxes were light and regular then,
　　And I could sleep soundly and late in the morning-
　　Till suddenly came a sorry change.
　　...For years now I have been serving in the army.
　　When I began here as an official,
　　The mountain bandits were rising again;
　　But the town was so small it was spared by the thieves,
　　And the people so poor and so pitiable
　　That all other districts were looted
　　And this one this time let alone.
　　...Do you imperial commissioners
　　Mean to be less kind than bandits?
　　The people you force to pay the poll
　　Are like creatures frying over a fire.
　　And how can you sacrifice human lives,
　　Just to be known as able collectors? --
　　...Oh, let me fling down my official seal,
　　Let me be a lone fisherman in a small boat
　　And support my family on fish and wheat
　　And content my old age with rivers and lakes!

　　bīng wèi sēn huà jǐ， yàn qǐn níng qīng xiāng。
　　 hǎi shàng fēng yǔ zhì， xiāo yáo chí gé liáng。
　　 fán kē jìn xiāo sàn， jiā bīn fù mǎn táng。
　　 zì cán jū chù chóng， wèi dǔ sī mín kāng。
　　 lǐ huì shì fēi qiǎn， xìng dá xíng jì wàng。
　　 xiān féi shǔ shí jìn， shū guǒ xìng jiàn cháng。
　　 fǔ yǐn yī bēi jiǔ， yǎng líng jīn yù zhāng。
　　 shén huān tǐ zì qīng， yì yù líng fēng xiáng。
　　 wú zhōng shèng wén shǐ， qún yàn jīn wāng yáng。
　　 fāng zhī dà fān dì， qǐ yuē cái fù qiáng。

　　Outside are insignia, shown in state;
　　But here are sweet incense-clouds, quietly ours.
　　Wind and rain, coming in from sea,
　　Have cooled this pavilion above the lake
　　And driven the feverish heat away
　　From where my eminent guests are gathered.
　　...Ashamed though I am of my high position
　　While people lead unhappy lives,
　　Let us reasonably banish care
　　And just be friends, enjoying nature.
　　Though we have to go without fish and meat,
　　There are fruits and vegetables aplenty.
　　...We bow, we take our cups of wine,
　　We give our attention to beautiful poems.
　　When the mind is exalted, the body is lightened
　　And feels as if it could float in the wind.
　　...Suzhou is famed as a centre of letters;
　　And all you writers, coming here,
　　Prove that the name of a great land
　　Is made by better things than wealth.

　　qī qī qù qīn 'ài， fàn fàn rù yān wù。
　　 guī zhào luò yáng rén， cán zhōng guǎng líng shù。
　　 jīnzhāo cǐ wéi bié， hé chù hái xiāng yù。
　　 shì shì bō shàng zhōu， yán huí 'ān dé zhù。

　　Wistful, away from my friends and kin,
　　Through mist and fog I float and float
　　With the sail that bears me toward Loyang.
　　In Yangzhou trees linger bell-notes of evening,
　　Marking the day and the place of our parting....
　　When shall we meet again and where?
　　...Destiny is a boat on the waves,
　　Borne to and fro, beyond our will.

　　jīnzhāo jùn zhāi lěng， hū niàn shān zhōng kè。
　　 jiàn dǐ shù jīng xīn， guī lái zhǔ bái shí。
　　 yù chí yī piáo jiǔ， yuǎn wèi fēng yǔ xī。
　　 luò yè mǎn kōng shān， hé chù xún xíng jì？

　　My office has grown cold today;
　　And I suddenly think of my mountain friend
　　Gathering firewood down in the valley
　　Or boiling white stones for potatoes in his hut....
　　I wish I might take him a cup of wine
　　To cheer him through the evening storm;
　　But in fallen leaves that have heaped the bare slopes,
　　How should I ever find his footprints!

　　kè cóng dōng fāng lái， yī shàng bà líng yǔ。
　　 wèn kè héwèi lái？ cǎi shān yīn mǎi fǔ。
　　 míng míng huā zhèng kāi， yáng yáng yàn xīn rǔ。
　　 zuó bié jīn yǐ chūn， bìn sī shēng jǐ lǚ？

　　Out of the east you visit me,
　　With the rain of Baling still on your clothes,
　　I ask you what you have come here for;
　　You say: "To buy an ax for cutting wood in the mountains"
　　...Hidden deep in a haze of blossom,
　　Swallow fledglings chirp at ease
　　As they did when we parted, a year ago....
　　How grey our temples have grown since them!

　　luò fān dòu huái zhèn， tíng fǎng lín gū yì。
　　 hào hào fēng qǐ bō， míng míng rì chén xī。
　　 rén guī shān guō 'àn， yàn xià lú zhōu bái。
　　 dú yè yì qín guān， tīng zhōng wèi mián kè。

　　Furling my sail near the town of Huai,
　　I find for harbour a little cove
　　Where a sudden breeze whips up the waves.
　　The sun is growing dim now and sinks in the dusk.
　　People are coming home. The bright mountain-peak darkens.
　　Wildgeese fly down to an island of white weeds.
　　...At midnight I think of a northern city-gate,
　　And I hear a bell tolling between me and sleep.

　　lì shè jú zhōng nián， chū jiāo kuàng qīng shǔ。
　　 yáng liǔ sàn hé fēng， qīng shān dàn wú lǜ。
　　 yǐ cóng shì zì qì， yuán jiàn hái fù qù。
　　 wēi yǔ 'ǎi fāng yuán， chūn jiū míng hé chù。
　　 lè yōu xīn lǚ zhǐ， zūn shì jì yóu jù。
　　 zhōng bà sī jié lú， mù táo zhí kě shù。

　　From office confinement all year long,
　　I have come out of town to be free this morning
　　Where willows harmonize the wind
　　And green hills lighten the cares of the world.
　　I lean by a tree and rest myself
　　Or wander up and down a stream.
　　...Mists have wet the fragrant meadows;
　　A spring dove calls from some hidden place.
　　...With quiet surroundings, the mind is at peace,
　　But beset with affairs, it grows restless again....
　　Here I shall finally build me a cabin,
　　As Tao Qian built one long ago.

　　yǒng rì fāng qī qī， chū xíng fù yōu yōu。
　　 nǚ zǐ jīn yòu xíng， dà jiāng sù qīng zhōu。
　　 ěr bèi kǔ wú shì， fǔ niàn yì cí róu。
　　 yòu wéi cháng suǒ yù， liǎng bié qì bù xiū。
　　 duì cǐ jié zhōng cháng， yì wǎng nán fù liú。
　　 zì xiǎo jué nèi xùn， shì gū yí wǒ yōu。
　　 lài cí tuō lìng mén， rén xù shù wú yóu。
　　 pín jiǎn chéng suǒ shàng， zī cóng qǐ dài zhōu。
　　 xiào gōng zūn fù dào， róng zhǐ shùn qí yóu。
　　 bié lí zài jīn chén， jiàn 'ěr dāng hé qiū。
　　 jū xián shǐ zì qiǎn， lín gǎn hū nán shōu。
　　 guī lái shì yòu nǚ， líng lèi yuán yīng liú。

　　My heart has been heavy all day long
　　Because you have so far to go.
　　The marriage of a girl, away from her parents,
　　Is the launching of a little boat on a great river.
　　...You were very young when your mother died,
　　Which made me the more tender of you.
　　Your elder sister has looked out for you,
　　And now you are both crying and cannot part.
　　This makes my grief the harder to bear;
　　Yet it is right that you should go.
　　...Having had from childhood no mother to guide you,
　　How will you honour your mother-in-law?
　　It's an excellent family; they will be kind to you,
　　They will forgive you your mistakes --
　　Although ours has been so pure and poor
　　That you can take them no great dowry.
　　Be gentle and respectful, as a woman should be,
　　Careful of word and look, observant of good example.
　　...After this morning we separate,
　　There's no knowing for how long....
　　I always try to hide my feelings --
　　They are suddenly too much for me,
　　When I turn and see my younger daughter
　　With the tears running down her cheek.

　　jí jǐng shù hán chǐ， qīng xīn fú chén fú。
　　 xián chí bèi yè shū， bù chū dōng zhāi dú。
　　 zhēn yuán liǎo wú qǔ， wàng jì shì suǒ zhú。
　　 yí yán jì kě míng， shàn xìng hé yóu shú。
　　 dào rén tíng yǔ jìng， tái sè lián shēn zhú。
　　 rì chū wù lù yú， qīng sōng rú gāo mù。
　　 dàn rán lí yán shuō， wù yuè xīn zì zú。

　　I clean my teeth in water drawn from a cold well;
　　And while I brush my clothes, I purify my mind;
　　Then, slowly turning pages in the Tree-Leaf Book,
　　I recite, along the path to the eastern shelter.
　　...The world has forgotten the true fountain of this teaching
　　And people enslave themselves to miracles and fables.
　　Under the given words I want the essential meaning,
　　I look for the simplest way to sow and reap my nature.
　　Here in the quiet of the priest's templecourtyard,
　　Mosses add their climbing colour to the thick bamboo;
　　And now comes the sun, out of mist and fog,
　　And pines that seem to be new-bathed;
　　And everything is gone from me, speech goes, and reading,
　　Leaving the single unison.

　　jiǔ wéi zān zǔ lěi， xìng cǐ nán yí zhé。
　　 xián yǐ nóng pǔ lín， ǒu sì shān lín kè。
　　 xiǎo gēng fān lù cǎo， yè bǎng xiǎng xī shí。
　　 lái wǎng bù féng rén， cháng gē chǔ tiān bì。

　　I had so long been troubled by official hat and robe
　　That I am glad to be an exile here in this wild southland.
　　I am a neighbour now of planters and reapers.
　　I am a guest of the mountains and woods.
　　I plough in the morning, turning dewy grasses,
　　And at evening tie my fisher-boat, breaking the quiet stream.
　　Back and forth I go, scarcely meeting anyone,
　　And sing a long poem and gaze at the blue sky.

　　chán míng kōng sāng lín， bā yuè xiāo guān dào。
　　 chū sài rù sài hán， chù chù huáng lú cǎo。
　　 cóng lái yōu bìng kè， jiē gòng chén shā lǎo。
　　 mò xué yóu xiá 'ér， jīn kuā zǐ liú hǎo。

　　Cicadas complain of thin mulberry-trees
　　In the Eighth-month chill at the frontier pass.
　　Through the gate and back again, all along the road,
　　There is nothing anywhere but yellow reeds and grasses
　　And the bones of soldiers from You and from Bing
　　Who have buried their lives in the dusty sand.
　　...Let never a cavalier stir you to envy
　　With boasts of his horse and his horsemanship

　　yǐn mǎ dù qiū shuǐ， shuǐ hán fēng sì dāo。
　　 píng shā rì wèi méi， àn 'àn jiàn lín táo。
　　 xī rì cháng chéng zhàn， xián yán yì qì gāo。
　　 huáng chén zú jīn gǔ， bái gǔ luàn péng hāo。

　　Drink, my horse, while we cross the autumn water!-
　　The stream is cold and the wind like a sword,
　　As we watch against the sunset on the sandy plain,
　　Far, far away, shadowy Lingtao.
　　Old battles, waged by those long walls,
　　Once were proud on all men's tongues.
　　But antiquity now is a yellow dust,
　　Confusing in the grasses its ruins and white bones.

　　yuè hēi yàn fēi gāo， chányú yè dùn táo。
　　 yù jiāng qīng qí zhú， dà xuě mǎn gōng dāo。

　　High in the faint moonlight, wildgeese are soaring.
　　Tartar chieftains are fleeing through the dark –
　　And we chase them, with horses lightly burdened
　　And a burden of snow on our bows and our swords.

　　míng yuè chū tiān shān， cāng máng yún hǎi jiān。
　　 cháng fēng jǐ wàn lǐ， chuī dù yù mén guān。
　　 hàn xià bái dēng dào， hú kuī qīng hǎi wān。
　　 yóu lái zhēng zhàn dì， bù jiàn yòu rén hái。
　　 shù kè wàng biān sè， sī guī duō kǔ yán。
　　 gāo lóu dāng cǐ yè， tàn xī wèi yìng xián。

　　The bright moon lifts from the Mountain of Heaven
　　In an infinite haze of cloud and sea,
　　And the wind, that has come a thousand miles,
　　Beats at the Jade Pass battlements....
　　China marches its men down Baideng Road
　　While Tartar troops peer across blue waters of the bay....
　　And since not one battle famous in history
　　Sent all its fighters back again,
　　The soldiers turn round, looking toward the border,
　　And think of home, with wistful eyes,
　　And of those tonight in the upper chambers
　　Who toss and sigh and cannot rest.

　　qín dì luó fū nǚ， cǎi sāng lǜ shuǐ biān。
　　 sù shǒu qīng tiáo shàng， hóng zhuāng bái rì xiān。
　　 cán jī qiè yù qù， wǔ mǎ mò liú lián。

　　The lovely Lo Fo of the western land
　　Plucks mulberry leaves by the waterside.
　　Across the green boughs stretches out her white hand;
　　In golden sunshine her rosy robe is dyed.
　　"my silkworms are hungry, I cannot stay.
　　Tarry not with your five-horse cab, I pray."
　　
　　
　　French version:
　　La chanson des quatre saisons, printemps
　　
　　Dans le pays de Thsin, la charmante Lo-foh1
　　Cueillait des feuilles de m?rier, aux bords d'une eau transparente,
　　Ses blanches mains posées sur les branches vertes,
　　Son teint resplendissant illuminé par un beau soleil.
　　Elle disait: Les vers à soie ont faim, le soin de les nourrir m'appelle;
　　Il ne faut pas, seigneur, que vos cinq chevaux piétinent plus longtemps ici.

　　jìng hú sān bǎi lǐ， hàn dàn fā hé huā。
　　 wǔ yuè xī shī cǎi， rén kàn 'ài ruò yé。
　　 huí zhōu bù dài yuè， guī qù yuè wáng jiā。

　　On Mirror Lake outspread for miles and miles,
　　The lotus lilies in full blossom teem.
　　In fifth moon Xi Shi gathers them with smiles,
　　Watchers o'erwhelm the bank of Yuoye Stream.
　　Her boat turns back without waiting moonrise
　　To yoyal house amid amorous sighs.
　　
　　
　　French version:
　　La chanson des quatre saisons, été
　　
　　Sur le lac King-hou1 qui a trois cents li de tour,
　　Quand les fleurs du nénuphar s'épanouissent,
　　On est alors au cinquième mois, et les jeunes filles vont les cueillir.
　　Si nombreux sont les spectateurs que la rive en para?t étroite.
　　Les bateaux n'attendent plus la lune, pour les guider à leur retour;
　　Ils s'en reviennent en plein jour au palais du roi de Youe.

　　cháng 'ān yī piàn yuè， wàn hù dǎo yī shēng。
　　 qiū fēng chuī bù jìn， zǒng shì yù guān qíng。
　　 hé rì píng hú lǔ， liáng rén bà yuǎn zhēng。

　　A slip of the moon hangs over the capital;
　　Ten thousand washing-mallets are pounding;
　　And the autumn wind is blowing my heart
　　For ever and ever toward the Jade Pass....
　　Oh, when will the Tartar troops be conquered,
　　And my husband come back from the long campaign!
　　
　　
　　French version:
　　La chanson des quatre saisons, automne
　　
　　La lune ne jette qu'une lueur incertaine,
　　Les coups mille fois répétés, que frappe le battoir des laveuses,
　　Se mêlent au gémissement du vent d'automne.
　　Cette triste harmonie s'accorde avec de tristes pensées.
　　Hélas! quand donc aura-t-on pacifié les barbares!
　　Quand donc l'époux bien-aimé cessera-t-il de combattre au loin!

　　míng cháo yì shǐ fā， yī yè xù zhēng páo。
　　 sù shǒu chōu zhēn lěng， nà kān bǎ jiǎn dāo。
　　 cái féng jì yuǎn dào， jǐ rì dào lín táo？

　　The courier will depart next day, she's told.
　　She sews a warrior's gown all night.
　　Her fingers feel the needle cold.
　　How can she hold the scissors tight?
　　The work is done, she sends it far away.
　　When will it reach the town where warriors stay?
　　
　　
　　French version:
　　La chanson des quatre saisons, hiver
　　
　　Un courrier part demain de grand matin pour la frontière;
　　La nuit se passe à doubler chaudement des habits.
　　De jolis doigts ont pris bravement l'aiguille glacée;
　　Mais ces ciseaux plus froids encore, que de courage pour les saisir!
　　Enfin tout est taillé, tout est cousu; l'ouvrage est confié au courrier qui s'éloigne.
　　Combien de jours lui faudra-t-il pour arriver à Lin-tao?

　　qiè fā chū fù 'é， zhé huā mén qián jù。
　　 láng qí zhú mǎ lái， rào chuáng nòng qīng méi。
　　 tóng jū cháng gān lǐ， liǎng xiǎo wú xián cāi，
　　 shí sì wéi jūn fù， xiū yán wèi cháng kāi。
　　 dī tóu xiàng 'àn bì， qiān huàn bù yī huí。
　　 shí wǔ shǐ zhǎn méi， yuàn tóng chén yǔ huī。
　　 cháng cún bào zhù xìn， qǐ shàng wàng fū tái。
　　 shí liù jūn yuǎn xíng， qú táng yàn yù duī。
　　 wǔ yuè bù kě chù， yuán shēng tiān shàng 'āi。
　　 mén qián chí xíng jì， yī yī shēng lǜ tái。
　　 tái shēn bù néng sǎo， luò yè qiū fēng zǎo。
　　 bā yuè hú dié huáng， shuāng fēi xī yuán cǎo。
　　 gǎn cǐ shāng qiè xīn， zuò chóu hóng yán lǎo。
　　 zǎo wǎn xià sān bā， yù jiāng shū bào jiā。
　　 xiāng yíng bù dào yuǎn， zhí zhì cháng fēng shā。

　　My hair had hardly covered my forehead.
　　I was picking flowers, paying by my door,
　　When you, my lover, on a bamboo horse,
　　Came trotting in circles and throwing green plums.
　　We lived near together on a lane in Ch'ang-kan,
　　Both of us young and happy-hearted.
　　...At fourteen I became your wife,
　　So bashful that I dared not smile,
　　And I lowered my head toward a dark corner
　　And would not turn to your thousand calls;
　　But at fifteen I straightened my brows and laughed,
　　Learning that no dust could ever seal our love,
　　That even unto death I would await you by my post
　　And would never lose heart in the tower of silent watching.
　　...Then when I was sixteen, you left on a long journey
　　Through the Gorges of Ch'u-t'ang, of rock and whirling water.
　　And then came the Fifth-month, more than I could bear,
　　And I tried to hear the monkeys in your lofty far-off sky.
　　Your footprints by our door, where I had watched you go,
　　Were hidden, every one of them, under green moss,
　　Hidden under moss too deep to sweep away.
　　And the first autumn wind added fallen leaves.
　　And now, in the Eighth-month, yellowing butterflies
　　Hover, two by two, in our west-garden grasses
　　And, because of all this, my heart is breaking
　　And I fear for my bright cheeks, lest they fade.
　　...Oh, at last, when you return through the three Pa districts,
　　Send me a message home ahead!
　　And I will come and meet you and will never mind the distance,
　　All the way to Chang-feng Sha.

　　wú tóng xiāng dài lǎo， yuān yāng huì shuāng sǐ。
　　 zhēn nǚ guì xùn fū， shěshēng yì rú cǐ。
　　 bō lán shì bù qǐ， qiè xīn gǔ jǐng shuǐ。

　　Lakka-trees ripen two by two
　　And mandarin-ducks die side by side.
　　If a true-hearted girl will love only her husband,
　　In a life as faithfully lived as theirs,
　　What troubling wave can arrive to vex
　　A spirit like water in a timeless well?

yíng mǔ piào shàng zuò　　cí mǔ shǒu zhōng xiàn， yóu zǐ shēn shàng yī。
　　 lín xíng mì mì féng， yì kǒng chí chí guī。
　　 shuí yán cùn cǎo xīn， bào dé sān chūn huī。

　　The thread in the hands of a fond-hearted mother
　　Makes clothes for the body of her wayward boy;
　　Carefully she sews and thoroughly she mends,
　　Dreading the delays that will keep him late from home.
　　But how much love has the inch-long grass
　　For three spring months of the light of the sun?