Flowers Falling in Qianxunjian

The ink cloud drags the rain across the west tower, the water flows eastward, and the late smoke collects; The setting sun outside the willow is shining back and moving the curtain hook. Wushan is really nice tonight, the flowers have not yet fallen and the wine is fresh. The beauty's smile turns to starry eyes, the moon is shy, and she holds a golden pot; The singing fan lingers in the wind, blowing away the sorrow of spring. I would like to ask all my friends in the south of the Yangtze River, who is as drunk as me in Yangzhou?