। ॥
In plain words
O Kāmākṣī, daughter of the mountain, the lights of your slow smile show jealousy toward the mandāra, a constant rise of passion toward Smara's chastiser, and a great sprouting of enmity toward the moon's blossoms of light. Tell me, how can things so pure be in so impure a state?
Word for word
Toward the mandāra your slow-smile-lights' jealousy is seen, Kāmākṣī, toward Smara's chastiser and constant passion-rise is marked, toward the lunar light-blossoms and great enmity-sprout is seen; of the pure how such, mountain-daughter, impure state, let be told?