। ॥
In plain words
Ah, on the bank of the Kampā moves a certain flower spray of consciousness, cooled with the honey of mercy, maker of all that moves and does not move, a festival for the bee in the minds of those devoted to wisdom, wandering the forest paths of words that spring up of themselves.
Word for word
The mind-bee festival making of the wisdom-devoted, resorting to the forest paths of self-arising vaikharī, ah, cooled by the honey-juice of mercy, on the Kampā's bank, the creator of moving and unmoving, moves a certain cit-mañjarī.