Memorial page of Milla

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 the snow I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle, autumn's rain. When you awaken in the morning’s hush, I am the swift, uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight, I am the soft star shine at night Do not stand At my grave, and cry— I am not there, I did not die.