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. yLfqXelJk3rbgi6jquU4irecP/lP6h3FSWrh7kYZVCMm/9QvAbxdni1bou6bbuDX
