। ॥ १७ ॥
In plain words
Here at the gate stand Sarasvatī and her companions, singing with a mellow vīṇā, sweet past bearing, letting the deep hum spread through the air — I worship them. At the doorway I praise the lord of the divine hosts, wild with the elephant's rut. And I give myself to Mātaṅgī: flushed with wine, robed in darkness, her pearls flashing light from every side.
Close to the Sanskrit
Worshipping here Sarasvatī and the others — who are singing most sweetly with the mellow vīṇā, who are spreading forth the humming note, who have taken their station beside the door — at the door I praise the lord of the hosts of gods, wild with rut; and I worship Mātaṅgī, intoxicated with wine, clad in dark garments, adorned with gleaming pearls.