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. l7yv7klrk2vMxweR2hNxiLRB73sR2++Fw048u38x8Th1iFeCQgcCFjiVMgW4nPFD
