। ॥ १०० ॥
In plain words
Śiva let his fierce old grudge fall away and tucked this flower into his hair, passing the curved petal off as the crescent moon; bees, greedy for its scent, never leave it alone. This ketakī blossom I offer you.
Close to the Sanskrit
Having cast aside the risen enmity, placed by Śambhu upon his head under the pretext of a crescent, always resorted to by bees greedy for its fragrance — the ketakī flower I offer to you.