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Hôjô Ujimasa 1538-1590 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. |
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Join Date: 06-14-2007
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