1. "Wandering Sons/Greeting Mothers" Author: Meng Jiao
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, won the third spring festival.
Vernacular translation:
A loving mother uses a needle and thread in her hand to make clothes for her long-distance son. Before he left, he sewed a needle tightly, fearing that his son would come back late and his clothes would be damaged. Who dares to say that a child's weak filial piety like grass can repay the kindness of a loving mother like Chunhui Puze?
Second, "Mo Xuan Tu I" Author: Wang Mian
Colorful Hemerocallis, Luosheng North Hall.
the south wind blows on his heart, so who does it throw up for?
a loving mother is attached to the door, but a wanderer has a hard time walking.
if you are willing to ask questions, you will be reluctant.
Looking up at Yunlin, I'm ashamed to listen to the birds' words
Vernacular translation:
Bright day lilies are born under the North Hall. The south wind blows the day lilies, swaying for whom to reveal the fragrance? A kind mother leans against the door and looks forward to her children. It is so bitter for a wanderer to travel far away! The support for parents is estranged every day, and the news of children can't reach every day. Looking up at a cloud forest, I was ashamed to hear the cry of the hui bird and miss it so far.
Third, the author of "Farewell to Old Mother": Huang Jingren
Pulled up the curtain and went to worship the mother's river beam, worrying about nothing but tears.
It's a miserable snowy night in Chai Men. It's better to have children than nothing at this time.
Vernacular translation:
Because I want to go to Heliang to make a living, I lifted the curtain and reluctantly said goodbye to my old mother. When I saw my white-haired mother, I couldn't stop crying and my tears dried up. On this snowy night, it's a pity that we can't be filial to our mother, but we have to hide Chai Men's miserable death. What's the use of adopting a son? I might as well not.
Fourth, "Crossing the Liao River" Author: Wang Jian
Crossing the Liao River, I went to Xianyang for five thousand miles.
when I came, my parents knew that they were separated from each other, and it was like dying to pay attention to clothes.
There are also white bones returning to Xianyang, and each family has its own hometown.
I'm not going back to the ferry, and I'm staying in Malaysia to see the Liao River.
Vernacular translation:
Leaving Xianyang, it's 5, miles to Liaoshui. Before going out, my parents already know that this place will be across the sea, so it's hard to get together again in this life. When I was leaving the house, my mother made some new clothes for me, as if I were afraid that I would never come back. In case I died on the way, there would be no clean clothes to bury.
Some conscripts were sent back to Xianyang for sacrifice, and the army chief petitioned the emperor to let people from the martyrs' hometown serve as conscripts. It is pitiful to think that I will never come back when I am away from home. Therefore, I feel infinite sadness in my heart and stop at the edge of the Liao River at a loss.
V. "Arriving home at the end of the year/Arriving home at the end of the year" Author: Jiang Shiquan
I love my son endlessly, and I am happy to be home.
A cold coat has a dense needle and thread, but a letter from home has a new ink mark.
I feel pity and thin when I meet you, and I ask you questions.
I feel ashamed of the son of man and dare not sigh.
Vernacular translation:
There is no end to loving your son, and the happiest thing is that the wanderer returns in time. The stitches of sewing cold clothes are dense, and the handwriting and ink marks in the family letters are as new as ever. Seeing my son lose weight, my mother felt distressed and called me to ask about the difficulty of the journey. Mother, my son has been ashamed of you, and he won't have the heart to tell the story of his wanderings.