xx xx xx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xx。 A thread is in my fondmother's hand moving. For her son to wear the clothes are leaving. With her whole heart she's sewing and sewing. For fear I'll ever be roving and roving. Who says the little soul of grass waving. Could for the warmth repay the sun ofspring. A TRAVELER'S SONG 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 1 / 1 本文来源：https://www.wddqw.com/doc/f974c12118e8b8f67c1cfad6195f312b3069ebec.html