In plain words
Dēvakī, lamenting to Kaṇṇaṉ: O Kaṇṇaṉ, today I drink in with my own eyes the delight of your youth, shining with your face like the lovely full moon in its delighting light, your strong hands, your chest and strong shoulders, your dark locks with their tender leaves and flowers, that crescent of your brow and your wide lotus eyes. Yet I, the sinner who lost the boundless joy of your infancy, when you would have known me alone, thinking "she is my mother", cannot keep my life in me.