Bee

Thursday, May 7, 2009

SONG OF A TRAVELING SON

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The thread in the hand of a loving mother,
For the garment of her departing son.

Carefully she sews stitch by stitch,
In fear of his delayed return.

How much of his little love,
Like tiny sprouting grass,
Can repay her radiant love,
Like warm sunshine of spring?
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Meng Jiao