Classic Poem

The hundred-pacer snake is dead
Stuck in a transparent bottle of medicinal wine
The label on the bottle reads: Aphrodisiac
A teaser for the guys roaming the red-light district
The hundred-pacer snake of myth is dead too
The Paiwan people once believed its eggs were their ancestors
But today it sits in a transparent bottle
Now the agent for promoting lust in the big city
When a man drinks the medicinal wine
And struts his false majesty into the red-light district
There, at the brothel door to meet him,
Is the descendent of the hundred-pacer snake:
A young Paiwan girl