In plain words
The poet, to the Lord: O wondrous one, with many weapons in your great hands! O you of such majesty: you created the waters of the ocean [the basis of all], and the earth you created you lifted up [as the boar], measured [as Trivikrama], swallowed [at the deluge] and brought forth again; you dammed the ocean [for Laṅkā], long ago lay upon it, and churned it. You loosed your weapons so that Māli, who came on in his pride, and Sumāli, brute as a beast, entered the city of Death.