Red is the color Not the blood that flows in the body
Even the heart when ruwah
Red anger at the whispers of the value of lust
Not a fire that sprang up Burning uninhabited homes
Red is us
Like the colors that float between lakes without RED rice, no children
Nor does it flow into the bay
And if the red changes there are colors that are ready to be castrated silently.
Often unconscious, direct two prayers and desires hang over the sky.
