हन्त । ॥
In plain words
Alas, O queen of Hara, a doe called the sense of I is forcibly devouring my young shoot of the crop whose form is awareness. O Kāmākṣī, in mercy drive her far off at once with the clear sapphire stones that are the throws of your side glance.
Word for word
I-ness-named, my devours, alas, a doe, by force, the awareness-formed, O Hara's queen, crop-sprout this; with layers of clear sapphire stones of glance-throwing, her high drive away at once, O Kāmākṣī, by mercy.