Without a tea pot, I am lost.
Without tea, I am only half a monk.
Without Zen conversations such as these, I serve no purpose.
This is all I can do.
Even an empty offering bowl will not change that. Such is the life of this old tea seller.
Am I selling tea, or Zen? Both are free.
I have nothing to sell, and I am completely useless, except for these things, and perhaps an occasional poem.