In plain words
Āṇṭāḷ, to the cuckoo: Cuckoo, my bones are melting, and for many days my long eyes, keen as choice spears, have not closed. I have plunged into a sea of sorrow and flounder there, finding no boat called 'the Lord of Vaikuṇṭha'. You too know that sickness, the pain of being parted from the one you love. Call the holy one, whose body gleams like gold and whose banner bears Garuḍa, to come.