孟郊·《游子吟》英译

Cotton threads in the fond mother’s hand were stitched

Into clothes on the body of her son who was travelling for afield.

She sewed and sewed with close stitches on his departure

For fear that he might come back late.

How can the heart of a son like a tiny grass requite

The infinite love of his mother,

Which is as warm as the sunshine in spring late!

（唐一鹤 译）

Chant of the Rover

In loving Mother’s hand a thread keeps shuttling,

To mend a travelling suit for thee who’re parting.

O why doth she with stitches small, small sew?

For fear be thou away so song, long on th’ rove!

Say not a pretty grass-blade grateful, can possibly repay

Spring sunshine’s nursing unfailing — throughout its suckling days!

（刘国善、王治江、徐树娟 等译）

Wanderer’s Song

by Meng Jiao

The thread from a fond mother’s hand

Is now in the jacket of her absent son.

As his departure came near, closer and closer was the stitching.

Her mind fearing that his return would be delayed and delayed.

Who says that the heart of an inch-long plant

Can requite the radiance of full Spring?

（Robert Kotewell & Norman Smith 译）