। ॥ २ ॥
In plain words
O beloved of Pārvatī's heart, moon on your brow, lord of every being, master of the Pramatha host, you who lift a mountain for a bow — Vāmadeva, Bhava, Rudra, Pināka in your hand — Lord of the moving world, pull me out of this trackless jungle of saṃsāra's sorrow. Protect me.
Close to the Sanskrit
O beloved of Pārvatī's heart, O moon-crested one, O lord of beings, O master of the Pramathas, O you whose bow is the mountain — O Vāmadeva, O Bhava, O Rudra, O you with the Pināka in your hand, from the dense thicket of the sorrow of saṃsāra, O Lord of the universe, protect me.