He wrote charming verses. He spent twenty years of his life in India, living in religious retirement. The following verses are from his pen:—

“The flood of my tears rushed towards her dwelling,
To wash the dust of strangers' feet from her threshold.”

The water of life is but a type of thy ruby lips,
Where is a Khiẕr* to give his life in keen desire for them?” ¹⁸⁵

“Like Amānī, in the desire of losing my head by a stroke of
thy sword
I have entered the ranks of the army (of thy lovers) with
nought but my life for my shield.”

“It is not the presence of the stranger in thine assemblies to
which I object,
But thy friendly glances for the stranger which I cannot
endure.”