In plain words
The poet, to the Lord of Araṅgam: Listen, O wondrous one of the colour of the pūvai flower, who dwell in Araṅgam ringed by the Poṉṉi [Kāviri]! Within the heap of hard deeds called my soul a shoot of love for you has sprung up; it has come to rest firmly on the bright, radiant, full flower that is called your feet, clasped it, and now spreads everywhere, never fading.