Das fol­gen­de Gedicht habe ich gera­de von Eve­lyn Rei­ter bekom­men:

When I was born, I was black.
When I grew up, I was black.
When I’m sick, I’m black.
When I go out in the sun, I’m black.
When I die, I’ll be black.
But you; When you were born, you were pink.
When you grow up, you are white.
When you get sick, you are green.
When you go out in the sun, you are red.
When you go out in the cold, you are blue.
When you die, you turn pur­ple.
So why do you call me colou­red?