कस्तूरीतिलकाञ्चितेन्दुविलसत्प्रोद्भासिफालस्थलींकर्पूरद्रवमिश्रचूर्णखदिरामोदोल्लसद्वीटिकाम् ।लोलापाङ्गतरङ्गितैरधिकृपासारैर्नतानन्दिनींश्रीशैलस्थलवासिनीं भगवतीं श्रीमातरं भावये ॥ २ ॥
In plain words
Her forehead is a wide bright field, and the crescent drawn there in musk catches the light. In her mouth a roll of betel — catechu, lime powder, camphor melted through it — fragrant, glowing. Her eyes move at the corners, and out of them come wave after wave of boundless compassion onto everyone who bows, and they are glad. She lives on the hill of Śrīśaila. She is the Goddess. She is Śrī, the Mother. On her I hold my mind.
Close to the Sanskrit
Her whose forehead-expanse blazes, shining with the crescent traced by a musk tilaka; her whose betel roll glows fragrant with catechu and lime powder blended with liquid camphor; her who gladdens those who bow, by showers of abundant compassion set rippling from her moving eye-corners; her who dwells in the place of Śrīśaila — the Bhagavatī, Śrī Mātā — I meditate upon.