ba-naala haasil-e-dil-bastagi faraham kar

From sighs, compound the interest that a bound heart brings; The treasure of the house of chains is but a cry, becomes clear.

The light that pours is measured by the strength of love; Without it, this whole house of glass is empty sky, becomes clear.

Asad prefers her chosen, artful cruelty; For promises of faith are just a well-known lie, becomes clear.