In plain words
Dēvakī, lamenting to Kaṇṇaṉ: Your red lotus eyes, sharp and lined with kohl, fixed sweetly on some toy hung above you; your small dark feet with their flower-like red soles drawn up; shining like a baby cloud full of water; all your small red toes gathered and clasped in your palm; lying there like an elephant calf: I was never granted to see you lie so. Alas, O Kēśava [of the lovely locks], I am lost, I am lost.