I'm a daydream knight I have a quill as a sword,
my word is the fortress, of my queen illusion,
my romantic long hair, straight and poorly combed
is more beautiful than the curled braids of Ninon.
I have a cousin who's rich, powerful and well loved,
I'm poor, I'm sick, I think, I write and I dream.
And one of those very bitter nights I suffered,
My rags with his tuxedo, rubbed as I passed.
He looked at me carelessly, he didn't let his white hand,
to hug mine, infecting it with warmth.
He wore his smoking, my elegant cousin!
and went away ashamed of his cousin, the daydreamer.
The freezing north wind from time to time, got pitilessly worsen,
I was feeling cold inside, outside and everywhere,
and putting next to a door I cried compulsively
and crying like a child, I cursed like a man!
You're rubbing the loose threads of my tragic rags
my misery pulled him out an irony face
In the pools also laugh the filthy tadpoles
when they rub the plumage of some fallen condor!
Unmistakable archetype of hypocrites who disguise themselves,
with the irreproachable cut of a tuxedo or tailcoat.
You're the archetype, cousin, my pride rejects you,
leave me alone with my rags! they're more noble than your tailcoat.