I have come to make my grave in this land.

All my friends are buried here, and some of them are dead.

When I am dead, bury me

Follow me; and let the dead bury their dead.

Oh! ye whose dead lie buried beneath the green grass; who standing among flowers can say — here, HERE lies my beloved; ye know not the desolation that broods in bosoms like these. What bitter blanks in those black-bordered marbles which cover no ashes! What despair in those immovable inscriptions! What deadly voids and unbidden infidelities in the lines that seem to gnaw upon all Faith, and refuse resurrections to the beings who have placelessly perished without a grave. As well might those tablets stand in the cave of Elephanta as here.

Oh! ye whose dead lie buried beneath the green grass; who standing among flowers can say- here, here lies my beloved; ye know not the desolation that broods in bosoms like these. What bitter blanks in those black-bordered marbles which cover no ashes! What despair in those immovable inscriptions! What deadly voids and unbidden infidelities in the lines that seem to gnaw upon all Faith, and refuse resurrections to the beings who have placelessly perished without a grave. As well might those tablets stand in the cave of Elephanta as here.

I know about death…Our country is haunted by its dead, weighed down by loss and remembrance.

I have conquered them all, but I am standing amongst graves

Upon my buried body lie lightly, gentle earth.

I range the fields with pensive tread, And pace the hollow rooms; And feel (companion of the dead) I'm living in the tombs.

Even from afar, I see the blackened corpses that lie in the streets. Corpses that lie there because of me.

The imperialism of the United States/has a wide grave:/there is your dead wife/there your little one/there your cow/there your mare/your field and your land.

I am dead: dead, but in the Elysian fields.

Mine first — mine last — mine even in the grave!