In plain words
The poet, to the diseases: O diseases, who have spread all over me like ants that cling to a pot of ghee and climb it, and stay holding me in your sway: go quickly, while there is time, and save yourselves. The Lord who gave the Veda [to Brahmā] has come with his couch, the hooded serpent, entered in, and lies within me, delighting in my body. This town [my self, his capital] is not what it was before; it is under his guard.