In plain words
The poet, of the hill Gōvardhana: The great hill Dāmōdara bore up, setting beneath it the five fingers of his broad hand spread open, like the king of serpents [Ādiśēṣa] with his many hoods who lies bearing up the wide earth: that hill, where mother monkeys, singing the glory of Hanumān who went to Laṅkā and destroyed its might entirely, hold their little ones in their cupped palms and lull them to sleep, is Gōvardhana, the victorious umbrella.