In plain words
O my Master, who gave me the happiness of bliss made perfectly full, You brought the bhava-sea to an end and made it stay ended, O Venkateśa. That all the worlds, with Hari and Hara and Brahmā and the rest, are one — saying it firmly, you called me — and into my right ear, you taught the sentence asi, ‘thou art’. Like a flower in the sky — so you declared the whole world to be. By that daring certainty you destroyed birth itself. You drove off the darkness of delusion and gave liberation itself. In the solitary expanse itself you seated me for all time. Once I had heard you say ‘fear not’, what more could there be, Swami? What more could there be? All that imagining sees is within thought itself, is it not? Seeing it as mirage-water, I came to live in delight. That this woman's form of mine is a slight thing — this I came to know for myself. Within whom does this whole world subside? Within him alone. Even if one keeps on telling over all that was seen as a dream — Is there sorrow? Is there delusion? Is there burning? — once one is made of That.