From a medieval Chinese poem by Lu Tong (795-835 CE). Translated by James Benn in his recent awesome book "Tea in China" which I highly recommend.
  1. The first bowl moistens my lips and throat.
  2. The second bowl banishes my loneliness and melancholy.
  3. The third bowl penetrates my withered entrails, finding nothing there except five thousand scrolls of writing.
  4. The fourth bowl raises a light perspiration, as all the inequalities I have suffered in my life are flushed out through my pores.
  5. The fifth bowl purifies my flesh and bones.
  6. The sixth bowl allows me to communicate with immortals.
  7. The seventh bowl I need not drink, I am only aware of a pure wind rising beneath my two arms. The mountains of Penglai, what is this place? I, master of the Jade Stream, ride this pure wind and wish to return home.
    Apparently Penglai is a fabled Taoist paradise.