In plain words
The poet, to the Lord of Araṅgam: I know not one of your wondrous ways at all. When the men of Yama seize me, torment me, and then beat me, saying Enter this body [made for torment], I will not be able to think of you there at all. O Lord of the eternal and freed souls who dwell in Paramapadam, O you of wondrous power born in Mathurā, O you who obey me as an elephant its driver: you must protect me, O you who sleep on the serpent couch in Araṅgam.