In plain words
Dēvakī, lamenting to Kaṇṇaṉ: O Kaṇṇā, whose eyes are cool, lovely lotuses! I was never granted, alas, that you should crawl, rise and come with your tottering walk, playing in the red dust of the earth, and cling to my breast. I was never granted to eat the leavings of the rice you scooped into your mouth with all your lovely small red fingers. Alas, I of cruel sins! For what did my mother bear me?