In plain words
The poet, to the Lord of Tirumāliruñcōlai: I have torn away completely [my desire for] the net [this body] that lay about the whirlpool of sorrow; entering wherever you entered, I have found you: would I let you go now? O you who came quickly and were born in the womb of her who lost six sons, dashed against the rock [by Kaṃsa], O my father of Tirumāliruñcōlai.