In plain words
Yaśōdā longs: "Like the little crescent sprouting at a branch-tip in the red evening sky, the cool white buds of his teeth gleam on the raised ledge of his laughing, coral-red mouth; wearing the string of shell beads at his waist and the tortoise charm at his neck, he who lies on Ananta, the one coloured like a fine great sapphire, Vāsudēva: won't he walk his toddling walk?"