If blood is here
Of dead and stain,
We seek all love
In pain and vain.
For colour of red
Is known to be,
The giver of death
For you and me.
In war it lives
In soil, more darkish,
And sorrow it gives
When life we miss.
If blood is here
Then so is sorrow,
To scatter its tear
Today and tomorrow.
What can be more sad
Then life that has died,
Given away its spark:
Its love and its light.