In plain words
The poet, to those who call such servants mad: With tears of joy falling thick and fast from their eyes and their bodies thrilling, they yearn, grow faint and stand there bewildered; they tumble and dance, rise up, dance and sing and bow down. Those who have become servants of Araṅgaṉ, my father and lord, and are mad for him alone, are not mad; it is all the others who are mad.