Paradise awaits those slain by your sword, and the luster on your blade was merely the reflection of the houris' eyelashes.

Ghalib turns being slain by the beloved into the ultimate divine honor, imagining that heaven itself stands on tiptoe waiting for those who fall to her blade. With dazzling wit, he suggests that the wavy patterns on the steel of her sword aren't metalwork at all, but the fluttery shadows cast by the eyelashes of heavenly houris leaning forward in eager anticipation. It is a breathtaking metaphor where tragic surrender to love is elevated to an instant, glorious paradise.