Zhe Wang

He looked nostalgic when picking up a pen,
And that's what you did to this powerless man.
Your voice from the far, your scent when you were near,
Your motionless figure that denoised the day
...

I know, that you must be out there, somewhere-
Somewhere beyond the humid mead, shunning moonlight,
And everything around you puzzling grey;
Somewhere among the easing chill of night,
...

It took you a second to glance me once,
But then a whole night for me to forget
For at nights there is always so much more
In dreams retelling the moment we met.
...

...

You are the thick warmth from my glove—
A mild heat that even winter would love.
You are the coldness from my beer—
A thrilling taste that makes summer so dear.
...

That day I tried to write a gloomy song,
When clouds drizzle all day, winds weep and hie.
And then my quill refused to write too long
About that sky where sighs in blue do lie.
...

On a fair blessed night, your fairest year
Comes in music, and in sweet dreams you hear.
Happy birthday she says, and songs she sings,
Choired by stars so soft, and tender winds
...

So what's it like there, you and your lovely woes?
The only question that I ask tonight
Is lost in some oceans out of your sight
Like it always is, me and my portless prose.
...

Leave me not in the outside weather-
Those ceaseless seasons are constant never.
The fragrant sunshine lingers one day,
And next rainy morn it's further than away
...