Perdita Young (Hanna Wang) Poems

I read you as I read a poem,
Though untold, subtle and sublime,
Through the maze built of words,
A clue for me, to your leafy dome.
...

Read this poem aloud, my dear friend,
Alone but peaceful you'll be, like in a forest.
In our inner mood we resemble soaring birds,
Near and close we try to keep, to an ideal nest.
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Whenever I read The Analects by your disciples,
The sound and fury past will swarm to my mind.
The Warring States sought power and control blind,
While peace and order too sublime for folks wild.
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On the Double Seventh Day of old,
A story has always been told
About stars, Altair and Vega,
Descending to the mortal world.
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The Cowherd and the Weaver Maid
(Section B)

The sight struck Cowherd quite dumb,
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On this o'ercast eventide of mid-June,
For you I scribble lines as a keepsake
Like cherries red to decorate your Cake, —
Ah fledgling who has just outgrown cartoon.
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I admire your profession, aloof poets,
By rhyme and rhythm you always attract.
So many, many fans, local or distant,
Who are ready to offer you bouquets.
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Anyone who wants to be a millionaire?
You'll be sitting in that tall, swivel chair.
You've got choices, A, B, C and D,
One is correct but not the other three!
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O you with slim, tall leaves of inborn grace,
And lovely petals pleasing with fragrance,
With moss and pigweed mingle in hills cold,
Secluded, hidden in ravine age-old.
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I.
The lovesick wind is blowing
To a lonely flute;
Raindrops from eaves are falling
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