In plain words
The poet, to the Lord: Many years, a thousand many years, that we your servants and you our master may never be parted! Many years to the ever-youthful Lady [Śrī Mahālakṣmī] who dwells on the right of your chest and is your very beauty, and to your other consorts [Bhūmi and Nīḷā]! Many years to the fiery discus that dwells in your right hand and burns your foes, its radiance filling your form! And many years to that Pāñcajanya, the conch that serves as a weapon, entering battle and roaring!