The White Lady I met, So many years ago, In my life without law and no king, She smiled at me in all disillusionment. Was it a compassionate smile? Was it a mocking smile? It was not mockery or pity. Otherwise, only in the sadness would I smile. And the White Lady also smiled to every inner joy. Smile as if willing. And yet it was not love. Was it desire? - Believe it! of physicists? Hysteria ... who knows? The Lady had physical caprices: She was a strange vulgar. He was ... he was the genius of corruption. Table of adulterous vices. There were lovers: a portion. Even women. Even boys. To the poor lover who loved him, If he stole sarcastic. With some perjury, with others cold, With others bad, The White Lady I met, So many years ago, In my life without law and no king, She smiled at me in all disagreements.