Ever since a handful of my dust mingled with the earth, the skies have been inflicting their torments upon it.

Here, the poet looks at his destiny with a blend of melancholic irony and dramatic flair. By calling his mortal existence just a 'handful of dust' (musht-e-khaak) mixed into the earth, he playfully yet sorrowfully blames himself for all the world's miseries—suggesting the heavens are punishing the entire planet just to get back at him. It captures that quintessential poetic feeling of carrying a fate so star-crossed that even the universe holds a personal grudge.