We pass away and we leave behind fingerprints
To every soul that happened to cross our way
Latent or patent by the fingers of our deeds
The transient touch of time can't fade them away
The ridges of the fingertips leave various impressions
Smudges or marks, aftereffect of the hand's intentions
We pass away and depart from all these worldly things
And all we take with us, is traces of fingerprints
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem