। ॥
In plain words
O Kāmākṣī, your string of glances gleams like a bank of rain clouds: it always moves in harmony with the winds and is kindly to the gods, it is lit by the rainbow of your creeping brows, it is moist with feeling, and it sets Nīlakaṇṭha rippling with delight, as clouds set the peacock dancing.
Word for word
Going always indeed to the Maruts' favour, brow-creeper-Indra-bow-bright, flavour-moist, Kāmākṣī, wonder-rippled-Nīlakaṇṭha, a cloud-bank like your shines the glance-garland.