He had travelled much and seen the world. He came to Hin­dūstān and then returned to his own country. He had some poetical genius. The following verses are his:—

“I wish that the flame of love may so strike my grief-
nurturing body
That, while I weep from its burning, water may fall on my
ashes.”
“I will give rest to my heart by patiently bearing her mes-
sage,
Though this (rest) is an impossibility to which I can never
attain.”
“Go, speak not of love's burning pain till the last trump
shall sound,
For this world is nothing but a house of mourning.”