Red is the primary colour at one extreme end of the visible spectrum
Red is the road towards patient nostalgic returns
Red was the library full of unwritten narrations
Red was the story of timid unspeakable words
 
Red was the gallery marked by unpainted transgressions
Red was the morning awakened by nymphs from your woods
Red was the life of a queen in a kingdom of rubies
Red is her night where she’d beg you to stay if she could
 
Red was the sunset by which lonely heavens were injured
Red was the robe the nocturnal magician has torn
Red were the roses that all-mighty hands once have watered
Red was the heart gently stolen by poems confused
 
Red was the blood which the thorns of your roses have poisoned
Red is the wall of the Wonderland which has seduced
Alice too earthy to stay on a fairy tale surface
Red were the road signs in tunnels towards you she used
 
Red is the nomadic star the divine hand embraces
Soon will the redness unbearably painful explode
Hardly will waters not cursed wash away the red traces
Red is the relic embedded for good in our souls