Do not stand at thy grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the 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.
5 avril 2026 à 19:42