In plain words
The poet, of the Lord: Joining together the serpent fit for the rope, the mountain fit for the churning rod and the ocean fit for the pot, he toiled and churned until the nectar rose there: is it from the weariness of that churning that he lies at Veḵkā in Kacci, and sits and stands there too [at Pāṭakam and Ūrakam]?