In plain words
The poet, to the Lord: O you who became a matchless lion, white in hue, and pressed your claws into the vital spot [the chest] of him with the curved and gleaming fangs [Hiraṇya]! Are you not Padmanābha, who lies in the milk-coloured sea, worshipped and reached by a good means by those who keep on their tongues the Veda of four tones, famed through the world for its authority?