First outing with the Hsinchu gang,
Under a cloudless, blazing sky,
Straight down through Sanyi to Yuanli,
Deep in the lane, Huatao Kiln lies.
Though talk of money is too crude,
To enter, you must buy a ticket.
Up the slope into the park,
Simple scenery draws the eye.
Red brick and wooden doors show wear,
Green banyan, withered vines speak age.
Poetic lines are everywhere,
Adding grace to peach and plum.
A breeze brings early spring's intent,
Water jars float green leaves and grass.
Content and carefree all the way,
Forget worries, laugh at last.
At eleven, a guide appears,
We gather round to hear of kilns.
Thousand-degree heat rises high,
Eight days, seven nights to shape the clay.
Then we tour the botanical garden,
Plum trees, fringe flowers, mahonia.
Each with a cup of almond tea,
By bamboo grove and lake, noise fades.
Time flies before we realize,
Our stomachs start to growl.
Rice-paddy lunch is on the menu,
Pork belly and bamboo shoots, old-style.
After lunch, there's afternoon tea,
On the veranda, light rain falls.
Peat volcano chocolate,
Bitter-sweet with a drink.
Stealing a half-day's leisure,
We chat about everything under the sun.
Carefree breeze, carefree hearts,
Joy passes quietly by.
We rise as evening nears,
Climb high to gaze at field paths.
Unadorned countryside is truest,
Green hills faint, waters far.
We head back to Hsinchu,
At Grass Leaves, grill rice cakes.
Suddenly hear fireworks on the street,
Warm and content through Lantern Festival.
Pity those who couldn't come,
This trip was started by Spirit Cat.
We convey everyone's regret,
Hope to meet again next time!