In Gratitude for a Gift of Fresh Tea

From In Gratitude for a Gift of Fresh Tea

Lu Tong, Eighth Century Chinese Poet

The first bowl moistens my lips and throat;
The second bowl banishes all my loneliness;
The third bowl clears my mind of words and books.
At the fourth cup, I begin to perspire —
life’s troubles evaporate through my pores.
The fifth cup cleanses my entire being.
Six cups and I am in the realm of the Divine.
Seven cups–ah, but I can drink no more:
I can only feel the gentle breeze blowing through my sleeves,
wafting me away to the Isle of Immortality!