। ॥ २४७ ॥
In plain words
Risen out of the great store of deathless bliss, the dark cloud stands overhead, hauled there by the strong winds of the longing of the good — and it is raining. Right here, in streams that are its own spoken words, it is pouring down this astonishing nectar of knowledge. Cātaka-bird mind, if you do not want this: has the false taken you over, or are you asleep? Which is it?
Close to the Sanskrit
Having risen from the reservoir of the nectar of eternal bliss, being the dark cloud, drawn by the whole weight of the mighty storm-winds of the longing of the good, it rains — this wondrous nectar of knowledge, close at hand, in streams that are its own words. O cātaka-bird mind, if you do not want it: are you overrun by the false, are you asleep — which is it?