Trem Das Cores

The orange-colored fringe of the hillside, pink grass tea
The honey of those eyes light, honey of unique color
The gold not quite green yet of the mountain, the silver of the train
The Moon and the star, turquoise ring

All atoms dance, dawn breaks, mist shines
Children the color of pomegranate enter the wagon
The olive of the leaden cloud fading, behind the morning
And the blue silk of the paper that wraps the apple

The houses so green and pink that pass by as we pass by
Both sides of the window
And that one in a shade of blue almost non-existent, blue that isn't there
Blue that is pure memory of some place

Your black hair, explicit object, brown lips
Or to be exact, lips the color of acai
And here, train of colors, wise projects: Touch the center
And the sky of a blue, heavenly celestial blue!