凯风自南，吹彼棘心。
棘心夭夭，母氏劬劳。
We live on mother's toil. We are not worthy ones.
凯风自南，吹彼棘薪。
母氏圣善，我无令人。
爰有寒泉，在浚之下。
To feed the stream and soil. Our mother's seven sons Are fed by her hard toil. / The yellow birds can sing
有子七人，母氏劳苦。
𪾢睆黄鸟，载好其音。
有子七人，莫慰母心。
To comfort us with art. We seven sons can't bring Comfort to mother's heart