First published on 9 August 2023. Re-published 8 August 2025.
The Beauty of Death was written by Lebanese-American writer, Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931). It’s presented here in a three-part series, read by Jasmine Low for dearly departed friends and relatives who have left our realm.
Playlists
The Most Beautiful Piano Pieces of All Time (130 songs, 5 hours 30 minutes)
Part One – The Calling
Let me sleep, for my soul is intoxicated with love and     
Let me rest, for my spirit has had its bounty of days and nights;     
Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed, and     
Scatter leaves of jasmine and roses over my body;     
Embalm my hair with frankincense and sprinkle my feet with perfume,     And read what the hand of Death has written on my forehead.        
Let me rest in the arms of Slumber, for my open eyes are tired;     
Let the silver-stringed lyre quiver and soothe my spirit;     
Weave from the harp and lute a veil around my withering heart.        
Sing of the past as you behold the dawn of hope in my eyes, for     
It’s magic meaning is a soft bed upon which my heart rests.      
Dry your tears, my friends, and raise your heads as the flowers     
Raise their crowns to greet the dawn.     
Look at the bride of Death standing like a column of light     
Between my bed and the infinite;     
Hold your breath and listen with me to the beckoning rustle of     
Her white wings.        
Come close and bid me farewell; touch my eyes with smiling lips.     
Let the children grasp my hands with soft and rosy fingers;     
Let the ages place their veined hands upon my head and bless me;     
Let the virgins come close and see the shadow of God in my eyes,     
And hear the echo of His will racing with my breath. 
Part Two – The Ascending
I have passed a mountain peak and my soul is soaring in the 
Firmament of complete and unbound freedom;     
I am far, far away, my companions, and the clouds are     
Hiding the hills from my eyes.     
The valleys are becoming flooded with an ocean of silence, and the     
Hands of oblivion are engulfing the roads and the houses;     
The prairies and fields are disappearing behind a white specter     
That looks like the spring cloud, yellow as the candlelight     
And red as the twilight.        
The songs of the waves and the humans of the streams     
Are scattered, and the voices of the throngs reduced to silence;     
And I can hear naught but the music of Eternity     
In exact harmony with the spirit’s desires.     
I am cloaked in full whiteness;     
I am in comfort; I am in peace. 
Part Three – The Remains
Unwrap me from this white linen shroud and clothe me    
With leaves of jasmine and lilies;    
Take my body from the ivory casket and let it rest    
Upon pillows of orange blossoms.    
Lament me not, but sing songs of youth and joy;    
Shed not tears upon me, but sing of harvest and the winepress;    
Utter no sigh of agony, but draw upon my face with your    
Finger the symbol of Love and Joy.    
Disturb not the air’s tranquility with chanting and requiems,    
But let your hearts sing with me the song of Eternal Life;    
Mourn me not with apparel of black,    
But dress in color and rejoice with me;    
Talk not of my departure with sighs in your hearts; close    
Your eyes and you will see me with you forevermore.      
Place me upon clusters of leaves and    
Carry my upon your friendly shoulders and    
Walk slowly to the deserted forest.    
Take me not to the crowded burying ground lest my slumber    
Be disrupted by the rattling of bones and skulls.    
Carry me to the cypress woods and dig my grave where violets    
And poppies grow not in the other’s shadow;    
Let my grave be deep so that the flood will not    
Carry my bones to the open valley;    
Let my grace be wide, so that the twilight shadows    
Will come and sit by me.      
Take from me all earthly raiment and place me deep in my    
Mother Earth; and place me with care upon my mother’s breast.    
Cover me with soft earth, and let each handful be mixed    
With seeds of jasmine, lilies and myrtle; and when they    
Grow above me, and thrive on my body’s element they will    
Breathe the fragrance of my heart into space;    
And reveal even to the sun the secret of my peace;    
And sail with the breeze and comfort the wayfarer.      
Leave me then, friends – leave me and depart on mute feet,    
As the silence walks in the deserted valley;    
Leave me to God and disperse yourselves slowly, as the almond    
And apple blossoms disperse under the vibration of Nissan’s breeze.      Go back to the joy of your dwellings and you will find there    
That which Death cannot remove from you and me.    
Leave with place, for what you see here is far away in meaning    
From the earthly world. Leave me.  
For Lorna.

