In plain words
One of the cowherd girls, to a friend who fears that their past faults will hinder the vow: The wondrous one, prince of northern Mathurā, ever bound to him, who sports on the banks of the Yamunā with its pure, deep waters, the bright lamp born in the cowherd clan, Dāmōdara [bound at the waist with a rope], who brought glory to his mother's womb [Yaśōdā's]: if we come to him pure, strew pure flowers and worship him, sing of him with our mouths and think of him in our minds, then the faults that are past, and those that would come in unknowing, will burn away like cotton in fire. So say his names. Take it up and heed it, girl of ours.