Classic Poem

I don't recognize Tasiqisi's face
The 1930s are remote from today
Grandma says the pink cherry blossoms flower for him
That day he abandoned his books and returned to the tribe
Led the Atayal people against the canons
They all died in battle; Grandma told me to look at
The monument at the head of the road
The monument is mottled
Covered with lichen
But it's still difficult to cover Tasiqisi's hard work
At the end of the 1970s I graduated from the teacher's college
And was stationed at the front lines; two years later
I took up chalk and taught in school far from home
Constantly I complained about the wastewater and air pollution
And the problems with public transportation
I'm certain that if you came to the city
You'd be bad tempered too
The cherry blossoms still shimmer in winter
Tasiqisi gradually grows vague
The monument is still covered with lichen
The city performs and plunders
I still have to make a living
In the 1990s I'm still hoping to meet a nice girl and get married
Having a son would be nice
(The world's population is exploding)
Peaceful in old age, if you were me
I think you'd want the same