In plain words
The cowherd girls, to Kṛṣṇa: Ocean-coloured one, who hold the blazing discus in your hand: we bring a little round-mouthed pot, a little winnowing fan and sand, and play as we please. What do you gain by wrecking our little houses past repair? Do not touch them, kick them and torment us, mark this. Do you not know that when the heart turns bitter even sugar loses its sweetness?