In plain words
The poet, of his tongue: The good the tongue can win is only this: to speak of the ringing feet of the Lord who drives the sun's chariot, yoked with seven horses, on the left and on the right [of Mount Meru], as its indwelling self; who dwells for ever at Vēṅkaṭam in the north; and who stood as the dancer [Kaṇṇaṉ] who loved the dance with pots.