In plain words
Even if he does taste joy, it is only a passing experience, not a lasting one. There were three kings, Tyāgarāja, Pōtarāja and Gōparāja. Gōparāja is Rāmadāsa. Tyāgarāja sang kīrtanas about Rāma. Pōtarāja is Pōtanna, the poet. These three, Pōtarāja, Tyāgarāja and Gōparāja, were great devotees of Rāma. This Gōpanna had such Bhakti and prapatti that, while devotees were swallowing up all God's wealth, he offered everything he had to the Paramātma and rejoiced that this was his Ānanda. “O Rāmacandra! Are You suffering in the sun and the rain, with no temple of Your own?” Grieving so, he poured out all he had and had a temple built for God.
Now, Pōtarāja. Pōtanna wrote the great Bhāgavatam. His writing shone like rubies and precious gems. His brother-in-law Śrīnātha came to him: “Brother! If you dedicate your poem to the Mahārāja, your life will overflow with the eight kinds of riches,” he urged. Then Pōtarāja said, “Śrīnātha! My lord in every way is Śrī Rāmacandra alone! I will offer all I have to God alone, and not to these kings,” he said, in a fine padyam:
Rather than give the maiden of poetry, tender as a young mango's new leaves, to base men and eat the bread of that harlotry, let good poets be ploughmen, what of it? Or in the forest's depths, of roots and tubers be diggers, what of it, to feed their own wives, their children and themselves.
“Shame! It is not for me to eat the food they give. What God gives, that alone do I enjoy. I will offer my all to God alone,” Pōtarāja said. Even before he wrote the Bhāgavatam,