In plain words
Āṇṭāḷ, to the clouds: Dark clouds rising over Vēṅkaṭam in the rainy season: singing the names of the one who came forth at the hour of battle and fought and won, I am falling like the lovely yellowed leaves of the erukku plant in the season of rain. In all this long time, will he not graciously give me a word of his own, on one day at least?