又是寒更雨歇，又是葬花天气。窗外的白玉兰花瓣，冷清清地叹息着飞回了那片埋愁地。纳兰公子，香尽雨阑珊，薄衾寒不寒?透着春寒的雨夜里，我和你一样，独拥余香，数不尽三更残梦。梦里的你，依然是独立天涯的断肠人。淄尘京国也好，乌衣门第也罢，你只说，“莫更著，浮名相累 It is a cold rain and a funeral weather. The white magnolia petals outside the window sighed soberly and flew back to the land. Nalan son, incense to make rain, thin cold, not cold, revealing the rainy night, I like you, alone with Yu Xiang, countless dreams. In the dream, you are still an independent heartbroken person. It’s fine to smear the kingdom of China or Wuyimen. You just say, "Mo is even more tired.