by Zoë Pollock
"Song of Tea" by Lu Tung:
The first cup moistens my lips and throat.
The second cup breaks my loneliness.
The third cup searches my barren entrail,
but to find therein some thousand volumes of odd ideographs.
The fourth cup raises a slight perspiration;
all the wrongs of life pass out through my pores.
At the fifth cup I am purified.
The full poem (with two more cups of tea) is here.
(Photo by Flickr user el patojo)