In plain words
The poet, longing for Vēṅkaṭam: Śiva, who bears the crescent on his matted hair, Brahmā and Indra all have their wants fulfilled by him through the great sacrifices each performs as befits his station, and he is the one the Vedas declare. On the mountain of holy Vēṅkaṭam, his hill, with its cool groves full of fragrance, may I become one whose lot is to lie as the path his servants tread.