在茶园--玛格丽特.哈赛

我和朋友仔细琢磨着
方形罐中展示的茶
斜边玻璃上贴着类型标签。
每一个名字好似都是一首俳句的一部分：
“雪涌现出之后。” “月宫。”
“三峡云雾。”
我被吸引到绿茶那里
不萎缩的未氧化的叶子，
保留它们青叶的芬芳
像冬天大雪覆盖的柳树。

经营者为中国茶提供真正的中国瓷器。
骨瓷，质地细腻，散发着白色的光泽，
呈半透明性质，显得易碎的瓷器强度，
耐破。
茶杯的边缘温润细薄
我朋友的嘴唇是舒适的：她可爱的嘴
张开给出我要求的建议。
我谈论起事件开端的回忆，
像初吻或刚发表的一首诗。
她不能记起

我告诉她我小叔子的
化疗-他的癌症第三次复发。
他想要他的家人放一撮
他的骨灰在他喜爱的东西上：
他的班卓琴，他书桌最上层的抽屉，这个茶园。

我不会介意我变成
一套骨瓷的一部分
在一间舒适的茶室里奉茶
闻到熏香，肉桂，麝香，和雕花柚木的气味。
我想要被带到一张小桌子前，
坐在朋友们轻柔的话语之间，
紧紧捧在手中，温暖的饮料
表面上散发出的热气
让他们的脸上茶雾氤氲。
My friend and I mull over the teas
displayed in square jars
with beveled glass labeled by type.
Each name seems part of a haiku:
“After the Snow Sprouting.” “Moon Palace.”
“Mist Over the Gorges.”
I’m drawn to green teas
with unoxidized leaves that don’t wither,
hold their grassy fragrance
like willow under snow in winter.

The proprietor offers real china for the Chinese tea.
Animal bones, fine ground, give whiteness,
translucency and strength
to the porcelain that appears delicate,
resists chipping.
The rim of the cup is warm and thin.

My friend’s lips are plush: her lovely
mouth opens to give advice I ask for.
We talk about memory of threshold events,
like a first kiss or a poem published.
She can’t remember…

I tell her about my brother-in-law’s
chemotherapy—his third bout of cancer.
He wants his family to put a pinch
of his ashes in things he liked:
his banjo, the top drawer of his desk, the garden.

I wouldn’t mind becoming part
of a set of bone china that serves tea
in a cozy teahouse smelling of incense,
cinnamon, musk, and carved teak.
I’d like to be brought to a small table,
sit between friends’ quiet words,
held in hands so close that breath
on the surface of warm drink
makes mist rise over their faces.
“At the Tea Garden” by Margaret Hasse from Earth’s Appetite. © Nodin Press, 2013