In plain words
The poet, to the Lord: O our Lord, whose lotus feet gave forth the waters of the Gaṅgā! O you who hold in your lovely hands the discus, the conch, the mace, the bow and the sword! O Lord of the eternal attendants [nityasūris], who became the lion [Narasiṃha]! O you in whose chest the lady born of the soft, honey-dripping flower [Śrī Mahālakṣmī] lives, never parting! O one of wondrous deeds, whose body is like the sea!