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Meng Jiao: For Her Son Who’ll Be Away for a While -孟郊·《游子吟》

孟郊·《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。

 

For Her Son Who’ll Be Away for a While

Meng Jiao

 

Needle and thread in doting mother’s hand

Turn out garments for her son out to roam the land.

She puts in more stitches e’en as he leaves

And frets that his homecoming may be moved back.

Who says the tiny inch-tall blade of grass

Can e’er repay the warm sunshine of spring?

 

(龚景浩 译)

 

The Wandering Son’s Song

 

The thread from my dear mother’s hand

Was sewn in the clothes of her wandering son.

For fear of my belated return,

Before my leave they were closely woven.

Who says mine heart like a blade of grass

Could repay her love’s gentle beams of spring sun?

 

(孙大雨 译)

 

Chant of a Roaming Son

 

The thread in the mother’s hand,

The clothes worn by the wanderlust son.

The nearer the departure,

The closer the stitches sown,

Lest his return be further postponed.

Who said the grass blade of a heart

Could repay the glory of the late spring sun?

 

(任治稷、余正 译)

 

A Journeyer’s Song

 

Through a kind mother’s hands passed the thread

That made the clothes I journeying wear.

Tightly tightly she wove them then,

Dreading year after year of no return.

Can the young grass ever repay

The spring sun’s kindly rays?

 

(张廷琛、魏博思 译)

 

Song of the Parting Son

 

From the threads a mother’s hands weaves,

A gown for parting son is made.

Sown stitch by stitch before he leaves,

For fear his return be delayed.

Such kindness as young grass receives

From the warm sun can’t be repaid.

 

(许渊冲 译)

 

A Roamer’s Song

 

My benevolent mother —

With thread and needle in hand,

Mends the garment I have on,

Ere I leave my native land.

 

More stitches, ere I take leave,

To hold the seams firm and fast.

As itinerant worker,

To come home I’d be the last.

 

With what can I repay Ma?

Whatever others may say,

For what she has done for me,

Her, I can never repay.

 

(徐忠杰 译)

 

Song of a Song Travelling to Far Afield

 

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)

 

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