Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there.
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that swiftly blow.
I am the diamond glint,
on newly fallen snow.
I am the sunlight,
on ripened grain,
I am the soft and gentle autumn rain.
When you wake from sleep in the early morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
of quiet birds in circling rush.
I am the soft, starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there.
I do not sleep.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem