In plain words
The poet, of Śrīraṅgam: The town where the hero [Rāma] dwells, who on a day long ago loosed arrows from the strong and mighty bow in his hand, so that the dark sea with its white waves reddened and burned: it is Araṅgam alone, ringed by groves where the bees hum loud, whose pure waters the throngs of the eight directions come to, worship and bathe in, where his auspicious qualities abide for ever.