Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow, across Northrend's bright and shining snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain, on Westfall's fields of golden grain.
I am in the morning hush, of Stranglethorn's jungle, green and lush.
I am in the drums loud and grand, the thunderous hooves across Nagrand.
I am the stars warmly gleaming, over Darnassus softly dreaming.
I am in the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. I do not die.