। ॥
In plain words
O Mother Kāmākṣī, at the moment even the dull remember your feet, their words pour out freely, clear, ripe by nature, forcing their lips to tremble, rivalling the roar of the ocean as the whirling mountain churned it.
Word for word
Of the dull even, O Mother, at the time of remembrance of your feet, rivals of the ocean made to roar by the whirling churning mountain, clear, O Kāmākṣī, forcibly lip-quivering, become freely naturally ripe utterances.