At the beginning everything was white.
Death always gives birth
to the color red. Space bathed in scarlet,
turned upside down in the dance.
the first man, lightning
flashing in his eyes.
The edge of the veil trembled.
A moment later fire leaped out: she appeared,
dancing in the flames and stretching her hands out towards him,
looking the same
in her nakedness, but strange.
He stepped into the fire, their virgin dance smoldering,
carrying them to the stars,
purple, lilac and white.
Nature of man became lighter and fantasy
became reality. Here, she,
her sacred body grew twice,
then another, and another, more...
Time went by. Red tinted yellowish,
so many men welcomed
the dance. They tore the veil into pieces. Clasping
hands amidst apples, flowers, and leaves,
now they were free -- green.
Dance changed form, colors faded into rain, washing away the yellow sins.
The gypsy girl gathered her long hair over her belly and breast,
swept through the dust on horseback, her hands and feet bare. Her dance
brought passion to men, orange, mauve, and cherry-red.
Woman changed. The new found power, a dance of seduction,
her dark silhouette floating to the clouds. Playing with golden locks,
adorned with a crown of roses, she became a Queen -- royal leopard skin.
Bending on his knees, man sent her his air Kiss. He dreamt,
in a dance of worship, the name of woman, and dueled
for the honor of her name -
royal blue and beige.
Time changed. His dance grew frenzied,
legs crossed in embrace, to face
her bosom covered with lace,
white and scarlet-red.
She berated herself, became chaste;
fastened a cloth over her head,
deadly white, and painted
her long robe black.
The dance grew faster. Man rose from his knees.
He deserted the past, the new moon leading his way.
Discarding his purple wigs, he became her King.
He greeted her with a smile, " Since today,
I'm free!" Pulling his mantle, he left, gray and gold and gay.
Her eyes turned yellow with jealousy.
Holding a Bible and a whip, she tensed her muscles,
pastel lights spreading a web of shadows.
She gently slipped off her stockings,
silk and sheer, leaping and jumping, she
ran after time, racing the man.
But nights were the same as before,
when it was scarlet and red.
He was free in the mystery of
her dreams, pure silk and pink.
The new looked almost the same,
they mixed up color, clothes, and name.
The wall-clock chimed -- ten, eleven, twelve.
Chasing man, woman forgot herself.
Man dissolved into similarities.
The dance moved in a circle,
chasing chaotically all the colors.
He started to dance with man, and she
wanted to change places
and dance with both of them, twisting limbs,
spinning torsos, and forgetting faces.
Linen falls from the sky, clothing all.
We dance the end and the beginning,
again. Alone. White and red.