From the harsh blow of the wind, a trace of their mark is found in the desert, but from the hand of womanhood and guessing, the cry of the Tātārī is not attained.

This profound couplet speaks of the ephemeral nature of memory and the struggle to recapture lost moments. The poet suggests that the beloved's trace is found not in the fleeting beauty of an evening, but deep within the desolate expanse of the desert. The second line is a poignant lament, suggesting that even the confinement of imagination or the reality of imprisonment cannot bring back the warmth or the presence of the beloved. It is a meditation on true longing versus manufactured memory.