In plain words
The poet, to the Lord of Tiruvēṅkaṭam: O you who have cool Tiruvēṅkaṭam, whose peak rises high, O you full [of auspicious qualities] who stand there so that the world may live, O Dāmōdara, O gracious one who do not look at our faults: I have had the mark of your discus stamped on myself [my soul] and on what belongs to me [my body], and I have longed for your grace alone. From now on, what is your sacred will?