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. sdS0/nimZ/jWlTtzmex7IWkht70yTq6NIRxq64zp9r6LVJ2sv2e6+Uqs6CTEebHL
