Lu Tong

I've been reading Sasaki Sanmi's Chado, the Way of Tea: A Japanese Tea Master's Almanac, enjoying the poems, the descriptions of the tea ceremonies, the recipes for things I can only barely imagine. I like the idea of ritualizing entertainment and attuning it to the seasons. Mind you, the same fear of rigidity I have, the author has, so it's hardly lifeless. At least from what I read.

One of the poems was by Lu Tong, a ninth-century Chinese poet. It's called "Seven Bowls of Tea", so I decided to write my own version.

His (in Sanmi's book):

A first bowl wets my throat and lips,
A second bowl dispels my loneliness,
A third bowl swells my dried and shrunk intestines, preparing me for 5,000 volumes of writing,
A fourth bowl induces slight perspiration which flushes all my complaints out of my pores,
A fifth bowl makes my skin and bones clean and fresh,
A sixth bowl makes me feel as if I had become a hermit or divine spirit,
A seventh bowl, therefore, is not really needed, my arms are free to feel the breeze blow.


His (as found on Wikipedia):

The first bowl of tea moistens my throat,
the second breaks my loneliness, and
the third bowl racks my brains, bringing to light the texts of 5,000 volumes.
The fourth induces perspiration whereby all ills evaporate through my pores.
The fifth makes my muscles and bones feel light, and
the sixth links me to celestials.
Be careful when drinking the seventh bowl,as it makes you feel as if a cool breeze were coming from your armpits.

Mine:

bowl 1 my throat and lips are wet
bowl 2 invites ghosts into the room it is full though i am alone
bowl 3 my soul is watered and thriving i will write a hundred poems
bowl 4 i break out into a sweat all my ills pass through my pores
bowl 5 my skin has cleared my bones are squeaky clean
bowl 6 i am holy
bowl 7 another cup might be too much i can feel the hairs on my arm feeling the breeze