In plain words
The poet, to the Lord: O Kaṇṇaṉ! You set your hands on the chest of that other one [Hiraṇya, your devotee's enemy], with his knife-like fangs and his great trust in the boons Brahmā had given him, and drove in your claws and killed him. And you, who lack nothing, went begging [to Mahābali]: what a wondrous falsehood is this! The earth you begged for, you hid within your belly [at the deluge] and kept safe. Who can see what is in your mind?