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. vOY1CxNDvIfuliUsIEUQbgdNxB5fRf1yoCrVJjwCLyovNG8cgh4y7vezKaTp8o13