Tell me, o devoted, who else is in your soul?
Do you really want me to go hence in your soul?
I wear my sunglasses to hide myself from a rival,
It seems there is not contact lens in your soul.
You hurt my pride; however, I’m not domineering,
I found the face of shame is too dense in your soul.
It’s my fault – to ring aloud – before you fell in love,
I could not hang acoustic bells in your soul.
Belief’s in blood, no mercy, again to whom I cry,
Aazam, poor and naïve, is on sale in your soul.
