The pot is me, and I am the pot. The pot reflects my image, while I cherish its authenticity. I manifest the inherent beauty that belongs to the pot everywhere. The pot, on the other hand, displays the human grace at all times. Tea culture gives birth to the culture of the pot, integrating all those who love tea and those who play with pots.

When we are old, surrounded by our descendants, enriched by calligraphy and ink.

I honor the national treasure through my purple clay.

When we are old, together with our partners, learning calligraphy and encouraging each other.

Thanks to the purple clay, our bond grows stronger.

When we are old, friends become scarce, loneliness creeps in.

Thanks to the purple clay, vitality returns.

When we are old, with no desires, our hearts yearning,

I embrace the purple clay, my heart unencumbered.

When we are old, aged and lost in thought,

Yet I still have my purple clay, its spirit remains.

When we are old, our hair gray, our strength waning,

Yet I still have my purple clay, rejuvenating my spirit.

When I am old, I have my purple clay,

Aging alongside it.