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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?
