In plain words
The girls cry: "His earrings swinging low, his curls swinging, the chain at his neck swinging, while all who dwell in the eight directions bow down, worship and praise him, he gathered up the clothes of us girls, whose flowered hair the bees settle on, and now he sits up a tree that touches the sky: today is the end of us! We beg, and he will not give them back: today is the end of us!"