In plain words
The poet, to the Lord of Tirumāliruñcōlai: The one who has the bull on his banner [Rudra], Brahmā, Indra, or anyone else: there is not one who can know the medicine for this disease called birth [saṃsāra]. O you who stand as the physician, coloured like a great sapphire: training me, so that I am not born again, grant that I live at the threshold of your temple, O my father of Tirumāliruñcōlai.