A POET

Wonderful poetry was taught from the best friend.
Everybody, please hear it.

a thousand winds
Author Unknown

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 glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumun'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 stars that shine at night.

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

Poetry that person who wrote doesn't understand
There is a theory that the Indian wrote.
That goes for me, too.
Because the Indian are alive with natural.