Using the Former Rhymes Again and Giving It to Him腹用前韻贈之
西北寒威方墮指。南方臘月如春氣。金粟黏枝已結纇。均天所覆地各異。禪家調格大高生。豈把酸甜隨俗嗜。蕭然方丈無一物。愛聽笙聲號鼎裏。評茶品水是家風。不要養生千歲虆。憐渠給給抽早芽。似欲先供老衲子。睡鄕癡漢亦偸嘗。失却從前雷鼾鼻。憶昔閑遊蠻國天。四時隨分嘗新味。火前香茗得未多。不似盈盤春笋稚。摘將萬粒成一餠。一餠千錢那易致。况今惟悴京華中。爲我何人重趼至。吾帥也是僧中龍。梵行無虧禪德備。山堆金帛尙欲施。誰秘新香忍不寄。收藏愼勿輕與人。除却靈臺澄似水。勸師早釀豈妄云。欲識茶眞先醉耳。書生寒餓長流涎。只將口腹營甘旨。若遣孺茶生稚酒。勝事眞從吾輩始。
In the northwest the force of the cold is about to drop one's fingers off, while in the south even the twelfth month is like the air of spring. Golden millet clings to the branch and has already set in knots — heaven covers all evenly, yet every soil differs. The tone of the Seon house is very high; how should it follow the worldly taste for the sour and the sweet? In his bare abbot's room there is not one thing, and he likes only to hear the sound of pipes rising in the kettle. To judge tea and rank water is the manner of that house; he does not hope to nourish life with a thousand-year vine. Pitiful — it draws out its early shoots so diligently, as though it would be offered first to the old monk. Even the dull fellow of the Land of Sleep tasted it in secret and lost his old thunderous snoring. I recall how long ago I roamed at leisure under the southern sky and tasted new flavors through the four seasons, each to its measure. Fragrant tea from before the Cold Food day I could not get much of, and it was less than a tray full of young spring bamboo shoots. Ten thousand buds are picked to make a single cake, and one cake costs a thousand coins — how is it easily had? How much less now, to me, worn out in the capital — who would walk until his feet blistered to bring it? Our master is truly a dragon among monks; his pure conduct has no flaw and the virtue of Seon is complete in him. Gold and silk heaped like a mountain he would still give away, so who would hide a new fragrance and not bear to send it? Keep it stored, but take care not to give it lightly to others unless their heart-ground is clear as water. Was it idle talk, then, to urge the master to brew wine early? To know the true savor of tea one must first have been drunk. A scholar, cold and hungry, is forever drooling and schemes for something sweet with nothing but mouth and belly. If Yucha should bring forth a young wine, then a good thing will truly have begun with us.