In plain words
The poet, of the fruit of this decad: The cowherd woman, whose flower-filled hair breathes fragrance, said to our Lord, whose body has the colour of the rain-cloud, "I, who gave you sweet nectar you could never have enough of, will not give you my milk." Paṭṭarpirāṉ, lord of Putuvai, whose ancient fame fills the earth, sang her words; those who can recite these garlands of song, full of beauty and sweet in tune, will be servants of Hṛṣīkēśa.