। ॥ १९ ॥
In plain words
Your hair loose and flung wide, the arranged splendour of your robe slipped from you, your eyes swimming with rapture, your flawless ornaments ablaze — O Tiraskariṇī, you who veil: I hold your lotus foot in my mind, and the whole herd of bound souls is milked dry of the false delusion it was carrying.
Close to the Sanskrit
O you with a mass of scattered hair, O you whose display of garments has slipped away, O you whose eyes are unsteady with rapture, O you blazing with spotless ornaments — O Tiraskariṇī, meditating on your lotus-foot, I make the herd of bound souls ones whose inner store of false delusion has been milked away.