। ॥
In plain words
O wife of the Lord of the single mango tree, I suspect the wave of your gentle smile is moonlight of another kind. When its light meets the lotuses of your breasts they never close into buds, O Mother, and your lotus face slowly opens into full bloom.
Word for word
I suspect your gentle-smile-wave other-kind moonlight, Ekāmra-Lord's wife, at every step whose at the light-meeting the breast-lotuses not your take on any state bud-like, the face-lotus, Mother, moreover slowly takes on full-bloom.