In plain words
A girl calls to her friend: Lady, I saw him in the street: the Lord who, born a cowherd, lifted the hill [Gōvardhana] and guarded the herds of cattle, coming along all together with his friends, playing his flute again and again, from grazing the calves. Never have I seen anyone like him; friend, come and see! Not one of my bangles stays on, my garment slips loose, and even my full young breasts are no longer mine to command.