Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep

    I am not there. I do not sleep.

    I am a thousand winds that blow.

    I am the diamond glints on snow.

    I am the sunlight on ripened¹ grain.

    I am the gentle autumn rain.

    When you awaken² in the morning's hush³

    I am the swift uplifting rush

    Of quiet birds in circled flight.

    I am the soft stars that shine at night.

    Do not stand at my grave and cry；

    I am not there. I did not die.