In plain words
The poet, of the hill Gōvardhana: The hill Tirumāl [consort of Śrī], of upright ways, held upturned over them, setting the five fingers of his red-lotus hand close as the fork of its handle and giving his long, sapphire-dark arm for its shaft: that hill, where clear streams spread and cascade on every side, gleaming one by one like shining strings of lovely pearls, so that it stands looking as if it wore a jacket of pearls, is Gōvardhana, the victorious umbrella.