In plain words
The poet, to the Lord: What can those who have clearly known the truth not do? O you whose sweet bed is the serpent with gleaming hoods, who resolved that those who turned hostile [Duryōdhana and the rest] should become ash, lent your helping hand [to the Pāṇḍavas] and laid them low on the field: grant your grace to me, your servant, reckoning that even bitter neem becomes a dish fit to eat.