1
If I, the boiling water,
And you, the tea;
Then your fragrance
Has to depend solely upon my plainness.

2
Let your dryness inside me
Softly uncoil and stretch;
Let me dissolve
Imperceptibly, your tension.

3
I have to be hot, even boiled
Before we consume each other;
We have to hide, see and hold
each other in water
to decide
a tea color.

4
No matter how capriciously
you drift;
Gradually and slowly
(O’ gently)
You will into me submerge–
Deep.

5
by that moment
the most bitter tear of yours
will become a best sip
of my fragrance.

Cheung, Dominic. Drifting. Green Integer: Los Angelos. 2000. p. 18.
Cup of Tea and a Blog

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