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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 glint on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I an the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the moring`s hush
I an the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I an the soft stars that shine at night
Do not stand my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die °ø¿ø´Ô Ç¥Àý¿¡ »ý°¢ÀÌ ³ª¼
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