In plain words
The poet, of the fruit of this decad: Wishing to stretch his long ears till they hung low, shape them and put in the shark-shaped earrings, Yaśōdā called Tirumāl with words worthy of his glory; with those words standing bright in his heart, the lord of Putuvai, whose ancient fame fills the earth, has told them in twelve linked songs that never cloy [an antāti, each song opening where the last one ends], with the twelve names [Kēśava and the rest]; those who master all twelve will be servants of Acyuta [who never lets his own slip].