Marlis Krämer

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 diamond glints on snow…

I am the sunlight on ripened grain…

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you waken in the morning’s hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of gentle birds in circling flight…

I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry—

I am not there… I did not die.