You place a rose upon my stone.

You put a rose on my stone.

The soul of the dead slumbers. Life is real, and life is earnest. You want to go back to the dust and returnest. You have no joy or sorrow. Yet you look for tomorrow. As long as time is fleeting, the sound of the drums is still beating, so why are you at my grave site weeping? I'm not sleeping, and I do not sleep. The men that live reminds us, and the Departed you leave behind us. So go on your way, do what you do, and pursue your dreams. Then you will see, don't cry for me; I cry for you.