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. r4bzsatBHXO7AQvt13Z9eMbxxY9mTdbmGXVgCFz5i7s1syJLQamoOnqJxw/d62rC
