One of the most eloquent eulogies, preserved and handed down through generations of First Americans abiding in Southwestern U.S.

HOPI INDIAN PRAYER

Do not stand by my grave and weep,

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a 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 quiet white doves in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand by my grave and cry.

I am not there, I did not die.

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