। ॥
In plain words
In the Tuṇḍīra land there spreads forth the one ripening of unwavering austerities, captivating the mind of the rival of the god whose bow is flowers, the one crest jewel of all women, making the riverbank swarm as with bees by a radiance like the blue lotus, and cutting through the darkness of those who bow.
Word for word
Bee-filled-river-bank, by blue-lotus-light radiance, cutter of the darkness of bowed people, in the Tuṇḍīra region expands, of the mountain's austerities the one ripening, the mind-captivator of the flower-bow's opponent, the sole crest jewel of the women's race.