Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamonds Glint on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the mornings hush
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.
This is one of my favourite poems the two foremost suspected poets are a woman called mary e frye or an anonymous irish soldier in one of the world wars
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
reminds me of my dad. beautiful. thanks for sharing.md