Poem 8, Do Not...
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Don't stand by my grave and weep
For I'm not there, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamonds glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumns rain
When you awaken in mornings hush
I am the swift uplifting rush.
Of quiet birds in circle flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not stand by my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die.
~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem