In plain words
O mind, touch the feet of Hari. Lovely and cool they are, soft as a lotus, and they carry the threefold burning away. The feet Prahlād touched, and he took the rank of Indra. The feet that made Dhruv unmoving, and kept him in their own shelter. The feet that met the shell of the world-egg, bearing splendour from nail to crown. The feet the lord touched her with, and Gautam's wife was carried across. The feet that put the rope through Kāliya, doing the cowherds' play. The feet that held Govardhan up, and carried Maghavā's pride away. Mīrā the servant; Lāl Giridhar, past all reaching, the ferry that carries across.