Even seeing the killer's empty hand, my heart was terrified; the crease on his sleeve seemed to me like a grim frown upon his forehead.

This couplet captures the overwhelming awe and terror the lover feels before the beloved. Even though the killer's hands carry no weapon, the lover's heart trembles—danger lies not in daggers, but in the beloved's mere presence and mood. Through clever wordplay on 'cheen' (meaning a crease or wrinkle), the poet shows that even an innocent fold in the sleeve feels as ominous as a furious frown upon the brow.