No scent of familiarity or friendship comes from anywhere—neither from the city and the river, nor from the garden and the desert.

Here, the poet gazes across every contrasting landscape—the bustling city, the flowing river, the lively garden, and the barren desert—yet finds that a profound estrangement touches them all. The 'scent of kinship' is a lovely metaphor for that instinctive warmth and belonging which turns a mere space into a home. Without that connection, the entire world, in all its richness and variety, feels utterly indifferent and alien to the lonely soul.