In plain words
The poet, surrendering to the Lord of Viṟṟuvakkōṭu: However long the sky forgets them, the green crops keep looking to the great cloud alone as it rises, darkening. Just like them, O Lord of Viṟṟuvakkōṭu, even if you do not destroy the sorrows I must suffer [the fruits of my deeds], I, your servant, will set my mind on you alone, all the more.