In plain words
Āṇṭāḷ, to her mothers: I lie steeped in the sight of the dark god, the Supreme One called Kaṇṇaṉ. Do not stand apart, seeing it otherwise, and lecture me with fine words; it is like pouring tamarind into a wound. Bring the yellow silk from the waist of the Lord who knows nothing of a woman's suffering, and fan me with it so that my wilting eases.