"The first cup of tea moistens my lips and throat, the second cup breaks my loneliness, the third cup searches my barren entrails but to find therein some five thousand volumes of odd ideographs. The fourth cup raises a slight perspiration - all the wrong of life passes away through my pores. At the fifth cup I am purified; the sixth cup calls me to the realms of immortals. The seventh cup - I only feel the breath of cool wind that rises in my sleeves... Let me ride on this sweet breeze and waft away..."
Thursday, 23 May 2013
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© Zsuzsa Szuts 2010
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