Immortality/Immortalità, a poem by Clare Harner

Immortality

Clare Harner

Do not stand
By my grave, and weep.
I am not there,
I do not sleep—
I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning’s hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
I am the day transcending night.
Do not stand
By my grave, and cry—
I am not there,
I did not die.

Immortalità

Clare Harner

Non stare
Sulla mia tomba, a piangere.
Io non sono lì,
Io non dormo―
Sono i mille venti che soffiano
Sono i diamanti di neve che brillano
Sono il sole sulle spighe di grano
Sono la pioggia leggera d’autunno.
Quando ti desti nella quiete del mattino
Sono l’alzarsi in volo repentino
Dei quieti uccelli le piroette.
Sono il giorno che trascende la notte.
Non stare
Sulla mia tomba, a piangere—
Io non sono lì,
Io non sono morta.

Traduzione ©Matilda Colarossi 2023

I lost my dear friend yesterday. And this poem expresses what Kathy will continue to be to me and to all those who knew and loved her.

If I had written the poem myself, I would have included that she is “the smile that appears from nowhere” and “the laughter that soothes in the darkness” and “the kindness we wish we all possessed ”.

A more famous version (I am using the term lightly) of this poem is by Mary Elizabeth Frye (*see below). She insisted that the poem was, in fact, hers until her death (and Dear Abby confirmed it was—Kathy would have a great big laugh at this, I know I did!). I have decided to translate the “original” poem by Clare Harner, published in The Gypsy of December 1934 (page 16), under the title “Immortality”, because I absolutely love the “day transcending night”!

For more information about the poems, please see:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Do_Not_Stand_at_My_Grave_and_Weep

*Do not stand at my grave and weep

Mary Elizabeth Frye

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 sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn 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.
.