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. f2afBZ4C1fnoG+n3evJNQcrzl2z6iuhfMAVBs+mU1Pk5wxrIBPrY16fD/WMwmUxW
