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Zoe Yucong Wang
Zoe Yucong Wang





for saxophone solo

dedicate to Jiaqi Zhao


Saxophone: Jiaqi Zhao

I. Prelude

II. Allemande

III. Sarabande

IV. Gavotte

V. Minuet

VI. Cadenza

VII. Gigue

(scroll down to check the recording of  VI & VII mov.)

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I. Moderato - Adagio - Moderato


Violin: Wendy Toh

Conductor: Garrett Wellestein

Orchestra: ESSO

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piano miniatures


Piano: Zoe Yucong Wang

 Monochromes is a collection of pieces that are inspired by words from the post "32 Of the Most Beautiful Words In the English Language" on BuzzFeed.

Aurora (n.) dawn.

Somnambulist (n.) a person who sleepwalks.

Petrichor (n.) the pleasant, earthy smell after rain.

Ephemeral (adj.) lasting for a very short time.

Syzygy (n.) an alignment of celestial bodies.

Limerence (n.) the state of being infatuated with another person.

Phosphenes (n.) the light and colors produced by rubbing your eyes.

Epiphany (n.) a moment of sudden revelation

Hiraeth (n.) a homesickness for a home you can't return to, or that never was.

Cromulent (n.) appearing legitimate but actually being spurious.

Oblivion (n.) the state of being unaware of what is happening around you.

Solitude (n.) a state of seclusion or isolation.

Defenestration (n) the act of throwing someone out of a window.

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for violin and piano

dedicate to Dr. Robert Morris


Violin: Shengming Liang

Piano: Zoe Yucong Wang

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The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.

I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument.

The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set; only there is the agony of wishing in my heart.

The blossom has not opened; only the wind is sighing by.

I have not seen his face, nor have I listened to his voice; only I have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my house.

The livelong day has passed in spreading his seat on the floor; but the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my house.

I live in the hope of meeting with him; but this meeting is not yet. (No.13)

—— from "Gitanjali"




How far are you from me, O Fruit?

I am hidden in your heart, O Flower. (No.86)

—— from "Stray Birds"



The pet dog suspects the universe for scheming to take its place. (No.189)


I have my stars in the sky.

But oh for my little lamp unlit in my house. (No.146)


The bird wishes it were a cloud.

The cloud wishes it were a bird. (No.35)


Once we dreamt that we were strangers.

We wake up to find that we were dear to each other. (No.9)

—— from "Stray Birds"


for high voice and piano


Voice: Anders Namestnik

Piano: Zoe Yucong Wang

​Text from Rabindranath Tagore

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for orchestra

II. Migration


from 2017 UNMR

American Composer Orchestra


The documentary Le peuple migrateur directed by Jacques Perrin instigated my inspiration to write this piece. I was fascinated by its depiction of the movements of birds, and struck by the power of nature that dominates all creatures. During the writing process of the piece, I did not have any specific breed of bird in mind. Only after I finished it, one of my best friends suggested the title "Blackbird", not referring to the specific breed, but rather the bird that exists in the Ancient Chinese Mythology. The piece has two movements.


I. In the Plum Rain

from The Place He Lived

in memory of my rough collie "CARRY"

for Percussion Quartet




for marimba solo

commissioned by Museum of Play - Strong National Museum, Rochester NY


Marimba: Oliver Xu



for soprano, violin, percussion and piano

dedicate to my grandfather Kejiu Li, a veteran from Korean War


Soprano: Sara Defranco

Violin: Shengming Liang

Percussion | Text speaking: Stella Perlic

Piano: Zoe Yucong Wang

Conductor: Justin Jaramillo

Text from James Arlington Wright

1. A Blessing (0'00'')

2. In Memory of My Horse David, Who Ate One of My Poems (3'22'')

3. A Dream of Burial (5'28'')

4. Trying to Pray (9'38'')

5. Milkweed (11'30'')

I. A Blessing


Just off the highway to Rochester Minnesota,

Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.

And the eyes of those two Indian ponies

Darken with kindness.

They have come gladly out of the willows

To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture

Where they have been grazing all day, alone.

They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness

That we have come.

They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.

There is no loneliness like theirs.

At home once more, they begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.

I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,

For she has walked over to me

And nuzzled my left hand.

She is black and white,

Her mane falls wild on her forehead,

And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear

That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.

Suddenly I realize

That if I stepped out of my body I would break

Into blossom.


II. In Memory of the Horse David, Who Ate One of My Poems


III. A Dream of Burial


Nothing was left of me

But my right foot

And my left shoulder.

They lay white as the skein of a spider floating

In a field of snow toward a dark building

Tilted and stained by wind.

Inside the dream, I dreamed on.


A parade of old women

Sang softly above me,

Faint mosquitoes near still water.

So I waited, in my corridor.

I listened for the sea

To call me.

I knew that, somewhere outside, the horse

Stood saddled, browsing in grass,

Waiting for me.

IV. Trying to Pray


This time, I have left my body behind me, crying

In its dark thorns.


There are good things in this world.

It is dusk.

It is the good darkness

Of women's hands that touch loaves.

The spirit of a tree begins to move.

I touch leaves.

I close my eyes and think of water.


V. Milkweed


While I stood here, in the open, lost in myself,

I must have looked a long time

Down the corn rows, beyond grass,

The small house,

White walls, animals lumbering toward the barn.

I look down now. It is all changed.

Whatever it was I lost, whatever I wept for

Was a wild, gentle thing, the small dark eyes

Loving me in secret,

It is here. At a touch of my hand,

The air fills with delicate creatures

From the other world.

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for mixed chorus

Text by Kobayashi Issa (I-III) and Fuwa* (IV)



Eastman Chorole


soprano: Ekaterina Gorlova | Sara Defranco

alto: Alicia Rosser, Hannah Grace Kim

tenor: Sean McNeeley | Gabriel Sin Ho Nam

bass: Trevor Cook, Alan Cline

conductor: Sanders Lau

I. The Plum Tree Blossom


The plum tree blossoms,

The nightingale sings,

But I am alone.


II. Seasons


The snow is melting

And the village is flooded

With children.

In spring rain

A pretty girl



Summer night,

Even the stars

Are whispering to each other.


Windy fall,

There are the scarlet flowers

She likes to pick.


III. Napping at midday


Napping at midday,

I hear the song of rice planters

And feel ashamed of myself.


IV. On my way home


The earth is fragrant

With plum petals falling

On my way home.

The Stars


electronic music


music quotation from Gabriel Faure "Clair de Lune"

poem quotation from Paul Verlaine "Clair de Lune"

poem speaking from

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