水袖轻舞蹈,拂过谁家桥?玲珑女,吴侬软语,荡舟心许。荷叶老,弄莲子,画柳桥。繁花绽春光,倾城沐暖阳。细雨斜,瓦落碎巷。水珠乱坠于墙角,醉烟柳,摹江南样。江南是一个梦,在一个诗书、画卷、丝竹和杏花烟雨中的美梦;一个关于断桥流水、江枫渔火的梦,一个流连于“垆边人似月,皓腕凝霜雪”的梦。不曾想梦里花落知多少,只记那年江南烟雨渺 The sleeves danced lightly and blew on someone’s bridge. Lotus leaves old, lotus seeds, painted willow bridge. Blooming spring flowers, Allure Mu warm sun. The rain sloping, broken tiles Lane. Drops of water falling on the corner of the wall, drunk smoke willows, and the south of the Yangtze River. Jiangnan is a dream, a dream in a poem book, picture scroll, silk bamboo and apricot rain; a dream about broken bridges and rivers, Jiang Feng fisherman’s dreams, and an affair with “like people on the side of the moon, snow on the wrist and snow” Dreams. Never thought how much to know in a dream, just remember that year