مع اقتراب شهر مارس أتذكر آخر كم شهر عاشهم معانا

و أخاف أكثر من المرض و ضعف البني آدم قدامه


Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not here, I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glint of snow
I am the sunlight on the ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn's rain

When you awaken in the morning hush..
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine in the night

Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there
I did not die

((Hopi Indian Prayer))