From Page 308

In this  mortal  life  no  contentment  got
No  habit  formed  to  sorrow  forgot

Thinking  of  it  in saurated  exhaustion
Look, there  no  relief  from it

Burning in winds  a  while
Family  lamp  lit  to  produce  no  love

All  that  happened because  of  her  mehmud
No  desire  left  to  aquaint  with  world