Light mists; thick clouds melancholy all day. The burning incense dissolves in the gold censer.
It’s the good time of double yang.
Jade pillow, silk curtains, the furniture— all are pierced by the midnight cold.
After drinking [tea] at the eastern hedge during the yellow dusk,
some hidden fragrance overflows my sleeves.
There is no way that does not dissolve the soul.
The curtain swirls in the west wind: I’m wasting like the yellow flowers.
—Li Qingzhao
It’s the good time of double yang.
Jade pillow, silk curtains, the furniture— all are pierced by the midnight cold.
After drinking [tea] at the eastern hedge during the yellow dusk,
some hidden fragrance overflows my sleeves.
There is no way that does not dissolve the soul.
The curtain swirls in the west wind: I’m wasting like the yellow flowers.
—Li Qingzhao
IF MAN HAS NO TEA IN HIM, HE IS INCAPABLE OF UNDERSTANDING TRUTH AND BEAUTY - japanese proverb
On a cold winter night a friend dropped by. We did not drink wine but instead drank tea.
The kettle bubbled, the coals glowed, the bright moon shone outside my window.
The moon was nothing special - but oh the plum-tree blossoms!
~Tu Hsiao Shan
CHÜEH-CHÜ
My medicine’s crude, yet the old farmer swears it really works;
my poems are shallow, yet the mountain monk has immoderate praise for their skill.
Cakes in pockets, with packets of tea they come to pay me a visit.
What harm if in the midst of loneliness we have one little laugh?
~ Lu Yu
My medicine’s crude, yet the old farmer swears it really works;
my poems are shallow, yet the mountain monk has immoderate praise for their skill.
Cakes in pockets, with packets of tea they come to pay me a visit.
What harm if in the midst of loneliness we have one little laugh?
~ Lu Yu
Drink your tea slowly and reverently, as if it is the axis on which the world earth revolves -
slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future.
Thich Nhat Hanh
LATE BLOSSOMS LEFT ON THE GROUND,
SHOOTS OF BAMBOO POKING UP IN THE MUD;
A TEA BOWL, THE POEM BAG -
I TOOK THEM WHEREVER I WENT.
MY DIM DREAM JUST TAKING SHAPE
WHO CALLS ME BACK TO WAKING?
BY THE WINDOW HALF IN SLANTING SUN
A PARTRIDGE CRIES
~LU YU
slowly, evenly, without rushing toward the future.
Thich Nhat Hanh
LATE BLOSSOMS LEFT ON THE GROUND,
SHOOTS OF BAMBOO POKING UP IN THE MUD;
A TEA BOWL, THE POEM BAG -
I TOOK THEM WHEREVER I WENT.
MY DIM DREAM JUST TAKING SHAPE
WHO CALLS ME BACK TO WAKING?
BY THE WINDOW HALF IN SLANTING SUN
A PARTRIDGE CRIES
~LU YU