In plain words
The poet, of Tiruvaraṅgam: Rāvaṇa relied on those great boons as his strength and made harming [gods and sages] his nature; he fought him, shattered his body and destroyed him, and so protected this world, as if giving it back its eyes: his town, the place my Tirumāl [the consort of Śrī] desires to reach, is the one called Tiruvaraṅgam, ringed by cool groves where the kuravam puts out buds, the kōṅku blooms and the cuckoo calls for joy.