"Looking at the South of the Yangtze River, Transcendent Works" Stone: Spring is not old, the wind is fine and the willows are oblique. Try to look up from the detached platform, spring water is half the city. Fog and rain darken thousands of people. After a cold meal, I woke up but felt uncomfortable. Don't miss the old country for the old friend, try new tea with new fire. Poetry and wine use time.
"Tasting Tea Ci" Huang Song listens to the sword: Feng Dance Tuan Tuan Cake. Hate to break, teach orphans Jin Qujing, the wheels are slowly worn, the jade dust shines on the soup, and the wine is reduced early. The fried tea tastes mellow and has a lasting aroma. Drunk hometown road, into a good situation. Just like under the light, Wan Li, an old friend, came back wordlessly. He was happy and introspective.
Su Songshi, "Yoshioka Fried Tea": Running water should still be cooked with live fire, and it is clear from fishing for stones. The big ladle stores the moon and spring urn, and the small structure divides the river and the night bottle. Snow milk has been turned over and fried, and the wind suddenly makes a diarrhea sound. It is not easy to ban three bowls when heartbroken, but it is longer to sit and listen to the lonely city.
"Cold Night" Mo: On a cold night, guests come to tea for wine, and the bamboo stove soup is boiling red. As usual, there are plum blossoms in front of the window, and there are plum blossoms before the month.
"Who reads the west wind alone in Huanxisha" Qing Nalanxingde: Who reads the west wind alone? Rustling yellow leaves close the window, reminiscing about the past and setting the mountain. It was unusual at that time to get drunk in spring and gamble on books and pour tea.
"Seven Bowls of Tea Songs" Tang Luquan: One bowl moistens the throat, and the other two bowls are lonely. Three bowls of heartbroken, only five thousand volumes of words. Four bowls of sweat, life is not smooth, scattered to the pores. Five bowls of bones and muscles are clear, and six bowls are immortal. I can't eat seven bowls, but I feel the wind blowing under my arm. Penglai Mountain, where is it? Yuchuanzi wants to ride this cool breeze home.
Don Bai Juyi: Sit and drink cold water and watch the cooking sand and dust. There is no reason to hold a bowl of tea in your hand, but this feeling makes people who love tea fall in love.
Seventeen Eyes Tea Don: Tea. Fragrant leaves, buds. Poets love monks. Grinding and carving white jade, Luo Zhihong yarn. Iron fried yellow core color, bowl turned to dust flower. Invite the bright moon into the night and greet the morning glow alone before dawn. Wash away the tireless people of ancient and modern times, and you will be praised when you are drunk.
Tang Libai: Wenyu Spring Mountain, a milk hole. Fairy mice are like white crows hanging upside down in Qingxi, moon tea gives birth to this stone, and Yuquan does not rest. Genk spilled Jin Fang to moisten his bones and muscles. Clusters are always rolling green leaves, and the branches are connected. Exposed to cactus and patted the cliff shoulder. If the world has not seen it, its name will be passed down. Zong Ying is a Zen master. He gave a good article. There is no salt in the mirror. You are ashamed of Xi Yanzi. It's fun to sit in the morning, and sing and broadcast all the days.