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 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, fragrant rain, thin cold and not cold? In the rainy night, I shared the same fragrance with you, and I could not count the number of 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,