In plain words
The poet, of the Lord who now guards him: The record [of my sins] that Citragupta wrote and kept, stamped with the seal of the king of the southern quarter [Yama], the messengers [of Yama] have torn up, and they have run off and hidden. I have become the servant of the Lord who reclines in the sea whose waves bear pearls, the First of those of ancient wisdom [the eternal attendants], nectar to his devotees: this town is not what it was before; it is under his guard.