Wang Ya
（II）
When tired of breaking willow branch before my bower,
I pluck at leisure by poolside the lotus flower.
I can not find your face when I ride on my horse,
But hear the cloud echo war cries of combat force. LTy28wtWEmDNxSpN/4RsharQRgiGvXmhCT0V9aqTVtJNEtYTzA8fUsWQFqyyqgLc
