In plain words
The cowherd girls, to the god of rain: O lord of the rain, majestic as the sea, hold back nothing in your giving! Enter the sea, draw up all its waters, rise roaring into the sky, and grow dark in body like the form of the First One, the cause of time and all things. Flash like the discus in the hand of Padmanābha [from whose navel the lotus rises], of the broad, beautiful shoulders; stand and thunder like his right-whorled conch; and without delay, like the rain of arrows loosed from his bow Śārṅga, pour down upon the world, so that all may live and we too may bathe in Mārkazhi, rejoicing. Take it up and heed it, girl of ours.