In plain words
The poet, to the Lord of Araṅgam: The brahminhood that qualifies one to bathe and tend the three fires, a thing to be guarded with great care, I have cast away; there is nothing in me [no knowledge of the self]; nor am I a devotee of yours. With what can I rejoice, O Perfect One? O you coloured like the sea, I cry out: take pity on me and grant me your grace, see, O you who dwell in the great city of Araṅgam.