। ॥ १०१ ॥
In plain words
The moon set its disc up as a rival to your face, and the Lotus-born ground it to powder on the spot — so it looks: this heap of open jasmine, white in my cupped hands, plain for you to see. I offer it to you.
Close to the Sanskrit
As if instantly pulverized by the lotus-born — the nectar-rayed one's disc, which rivalled your face — a heap of blooming jasmine blossoms, plainly resting in my cupped palms, I offer to you.