In plain words
The poet, to the Lord: You are the soul in every one of the many bodies, those that stand still and those that move, fitting yourself to them and mingling within them as though one with them; to say of your nature "it is like this" is beyond the thought of anyone, however wise, at any time; you are foremost of all things. Are you not the sole first cause, the Lord at play, who in that time [of the deluge] brought forth the four-faced Brahmā in your navel?