In plain words
The poet, of what his eyes have seen: The pure one, the First, our Benefactor, whose fame is spotless for making me the servant of his servants; the King of the nityasūris, he of Vēṅkaṭam with its fragrant groves; the faultless one whom all may approach, the spotless one who sees no fault in his own; the Lord of the heaven where the just order holds; the Lord of long-walled Araṅgam: his holy lotus feet have come of themselves and seem to be within my eyes.