In plain words
Āṇṭāḷ, to the cuckoo: Lovely cuckoo, my breasts swell with longing to be joined with the one who lies on the surging Sea of Milk; they throb with eager joy and melt my very life in turmoil. What do you gain by staying hidden? If you call him to come, whose hands hold the bright discus, the conch and the mace, you will win great merit.