At last you have made a vow to kill me, but alas if this promise does not remain firm.

There is a brilliantly bittersweet paradox at play here: the lover is almost relieved that the beloved has finally acknowledged him, even if only through a vow to slay him. In the classical ghazal tradition, death at the hands of the beloved is the ultimate gift and an end to the unbearable agony of longing. The poet's real dread isn't dying, but the heartbreaking chance that the notoriously fickle beloved might fail to keep this promise too.