In plain words
The poet, of Araṅgam: He dashed to pieces the marutu trees that stood outwardly as a flourishing grove with fury in their hearts, the raging elephant [Kuvalayāpīḍa], Pralamba, the fierce horse [Kēśi], the cart [Śakaṭa] that came rolling and the wrestlers [Cāṇūra and Muṣṭika], and heard himself praised for it; he raises his servants through the orb of the sun whose darting rays drive away the dark, sets them [among the eternal attendants, nityasūris], draws away the ladder [his being the means], gives them his grace [so that they never return] and takes them into his service: the town where he firmly dwells is lovely Araṅgam.