Ek ek qatre ka mujhe dena pada hisaab

For each and every drop, a price was paid, My heart's blood, held in trust for her sharp gaze, was.

Now I am left to mourn a city's fall, The mirror you once broke, a dream-filled maze, was.

Go, drag my corpse along the streets for all to see, My soul, besotted by that pathway's daze, was.

Ask not what faith's mirage-filled desert showed, Each grain of sand a sword's reflected blaze, was.

I once thought little of the pains of love, But found it dwarfed the grief of all my days, was.

Whose searching madness hunted for a sign? The mirror hall, a vale of dust-filled haze, was.

Whose image was the mirror of my wait? Behind each bloom, a heart in restless craze, was.

Ask not how sight can bring a fate so grim, Your glance revealed the wound's most splendid phase, was.

I saw the faith of life's brief joy and pain, A long-drawn yawn, the hangover's slow daze, was.

O Asad, Judgment's dawn was false and brief, In deserts where she set the world ablaze, was.