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. htgmUr6YfA+/0xlN8BjjuHBIung3lt5SVA6WqpI7W3KcqDqrgkbw/zDzmxbO+ogq
