Guillaume Apollinaire. (№ 396687)

And you will smile - well, what came to mind you
Nonsense! "In nine hundred and some year
I loved the poet - and he was silent,
And ugly was what sort of year..."
Alas, I am ugly, and you of all mortals beautiful
And wait for the knight, you promised,
To bring a welcome Mirage
Where is the happiness to be together to become magical dreams.
Noble lords will bow before you,
Caress promises diamond and emerald -
Then, away from you, with broken hearts,
The shadows are poor and pale die...