। ॥ ५२ ॥
In plain words
Cloud that rains the nectar of compassion, practised hand at breaking the long summer of thick misfortune — the clear-hearted wait on you so the crop of knowledge can come to fruit. You wear whatever form you choose. Devotees dance around you like peacocks, the mountain is your house, your matted hair swings in a shimmering ring. Śambhu, blue-throated one: the cātaka bird of my mind is always wanting you.
Close to the Sanskrit
You who rain the nectar of compassion; who are practised at cutting away the summer of dense calamities; who are to be served by the good-minded, so that the fruit of the crop of knowledge may arise; whose form is taken at will; around whom devotee-peacocks dance; whose dwelling is the mountain; whose circle of matted locks quivers — O Śambhu, O blue-necked one, the cātaka-bird of my mind always longs for You.