In plain words
We can look carefully into one more matter too. In every young man's pocket there is a mirror and a comb. The girls too keep even the whole bazaar packed into one small basket. But if you ask what we do all this for: if our head, impermanent and momentary as it is, gets the least bit ruffled, we see to combing it at once. Thinking, ‘Our face is just yesterday's face, isn't it?’, we wipe it moment by moment and set it right. We impose many distortions on the Ātma, which is joined with Ānanda upon Ānanda, but we do not develop the will-power fit to set right its form that is eternal, that is Satya, that is everlasting and pure. To see its beauty, we must always keep a comb and a mirror with us. If you ask what that mirror and that comb are: our pure Prema itself is the mirror. The comb that examines what is eternal and what is not and leaves no tangles is itself the great Jñāna. When this comb called Jñāna and this mirror called Bhakti are with us, we will make the fitting effort to adorn the Ātma in its beauty.
Embodiments of the divine Ātma! We must recognise, for once, what inner meaning lies in the way the gopas and gopālas, utterly innocent and pure in citta, who had read no Vedas, no śāstras, no Upaniṣads at all, took Kṛṣṇa into their own hands. They took the heart itself, the Ānanda full of the nectar of Prema, to be their own Ocean of Milk. Thinking of God over and over, they recognised who they were; the very remainder left within that principle they laid out as the couch of Śeṣa. The very consciousness in this Ānanda they laid to rest on it as Mahāviṣṇu. They themselves, taking themselves to be Lakṣmī, are pressing His feet. Precisely by taking refuge in those feet, they demonstrated an ideal of a kind, so that Viṣṇu-hood, that is, all-pervasiveness, would become visible to them. The principle of the couch of Śeṣa, full of Ānanda, where Lakṣmī stands as a woman and, keeping Viṣṇu as the Puruṣa, serves His feet, is not without a fine meaning too.