After the demise of poets like Momin, Alvi, Sahbai, and Mamnoon, no wise person will ever even speak the name of poetry again.

Here, the poet looks back with tender sorrow at Delhi's departed masters—Momin, Alvi, Sahbai, and Mamnoon—mourning the loss of an unmatched golden age. There is a deep, dramatic conviction that true craft and elegance have vanished with these legends, leaving an irreplaceable void. To the speaker, anyone with genuine wisdom and taste would now rather remain silent than demean the word 'poetry' with ordinary verse.