। ॥
In plain words
O Śrī Kāmakoṭi, daughter of the king of mountains, I think this beauty of your eyes is a surging rain of the arrows of Kāma, for it shatters into a hundred pieces the seal of composure in the heart of the moon-crested Lord.
Word for word
This your eye-beauty, of the uneven-weaponed a shaft-rain-wave, mountain-king's daughter, I think, makes hundredfold in the heart the composure-seal, Śrī Kāmakoṭi, since it of the cool-rayed-crested.