Do not stand by my grave and weep,
For I am not there,
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
or the diamonds that sparkle in the snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
and the gentle Autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the soft, uplifting rush
of butterflies in joyous flight.
I am the stars' quiet sparkle in the dead of the night.
Do not stand on my grave and cry,
I am not there,
I did not die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.