। ॥ ८ ॥
In plain words
In a golden hall that gleams — a hall that milks out for people whatever they ask of it — on a ruby dais buried under heaped flowers, blazing like a thousand suns all rising at once: Kārtikeya, lord of the gods. I hold him in mind, always.
Close to the Sanskrit
In the shining golden house, which is the milking of men's desires, on the ruby dais covered over with a mass of flowers — him whose radiance equals a thousand rising suns — always I contemplate Kārtikeya, the lord of the gods.