In plain words
Āṇṭāḷ, to Kāma: Kāmadēva, at all three times of day I worship you and bow at your feet, scattering pure flowers, worshipping and praising you. If I may not live doing faultless service to him alone whose colour is the ocean that girdles the earth, I shall weep and weep and wander distraught, crying ‘Mother!’, and all of that will weigh heavily upon you, mark this. It will be like striking with the yoke an ox that has ploughed for you, and driving it off without its fodder.