Cannot love this enough!

斌

Hôjô Ujimasa
1538-1590 
  
Death Poem

Autumn wind of eve, 
blow away the clouds that mass 
over the moon's pure light 
and the mists that cloud our mind, 
do thou sweep away as well. 
Now we disappear, 
well, what must we think of it? 
From the sky we came. 
Now we may go back again. 
That's at least one point of view. 

This is such nice but I prefer listening in parts or I lose the beginnings of the pieces. maybe because the same instruments are used in similar ways or its being a foreign culture. nice for challenging the factory settings.