In plain words
A woman tells it: When Gōvinda played the flute, the young prince of heaven, the little one of Vaikuṇṭha, Vāsudēva, king of Mathurā, young prince of Nanda the chieftain, the little one of the cowherds, the young women of heaven came and came and crowded together, their hearts melting, their flower-like eyes brimming with tears, their thick honey-steeped hair coming loose and their foreheads beaded with sweat, and they stood with their ears bent to the sound.