In plain words
Āṇṭāḷ, to her mothers: I melt within and waste away, and he does not so much as ask, 'Is she alive or not?' If I see him, the plunderer of all I had, the rogue, Gōvardhana [Kaṇṇapirāṉ], I will tear out these breasts that are of no use at all, root and all, fling them at his chest, and so put out the fire of my sorrow.