I Want No Weeping at My Grave

1st I want no weeping at my grave, except my wife’s lamenting brief; I need no tears of yours and save, oh save yourselves the bogus grief.

2nd I want no moaning of a bell nor all that mourners’ gloomy yowling; oh, may the wind and rain raise hell, and to my funeral come howling.

3rd A lump of earth, if you’re so bound, hurl down before it’s through, and may the Sun illume my burial mound, and ever burn the withered clay.

4th But maybe there will come the time when I feel weary of my rest: I’ll wrack the tomb and out will climb, against the sun I shall contest.

5th And when you see me then in flight, my form aglow and out of reach, require me to forsake the height, but use the words of my own speech.

6th So I can hear them, as of yore, when then I pass a starry lane – and maybe I’ll take up once more the strife that used to be my bane.

Niech nikt nad grobem mi nie płacze