The west wind blows softly,
The sound of music stopped.
The flowing clouds don't know the weariness of the setting sun. 
The tall buildings don't know the worries of the running water.
Birth and death.
Good times have gone.
When can one rest?
The setting sun illuminates the world
Only because the world is his beloved.
Even if no one understands him,
He has no regrets.
- Immortal Samsara