So often, words finding their way from one language to another invariably contributes to the richness and complexity of its new home. Adding, new depth, meaning and colour.
Enter, Orange.
Prior to the 14th century, an onlooker might describe the distinguishing colour of a Robin Redbreast as “geoluread”(yellow-red) the old English term to describe the colour that we are now so familiar with, the secondary hue lying between Red and Yellow on the colour wheel.
The word, “ Crog”, or Geolucrog(yellow-saffron), another old English word, derived from the Latin word crocus, (Saffron) was another.
English speakers often would describe something as yellow-red, hence Red Deer, Robin Redbreast, and the term red head may seem to us now as rather inaccurate. I suppose you work with what you have got.
Not until a cargo ship from Spain arrived at Portsmouth carrying luxuries such as pomegranates, lemons, and the small bittersweet fruits we now know as oranges. These Seville oranges arriving in 1289 for Queen Eleanor, wife of Edward I, was a fruit seen only in the royal kitchen.
The earliest recorded use of the word “orange” was 1502, to describe clothes bought for Margaret Tudor, Queen of Scotland.
The Oxford Dictionary records 1512, as the earliest use of orange the colour.
Etymological journey
The root of our word is very likely of Dravidian origin. The Sanskrit , नारंगी .( narangah) meaning fragrant.
Heading through Persia and the middle east we get , نارنجی, (narangi).
Spain and Italy say, “naranja “, and “arancione” respectively.
Old French gave us “pomme d’orenge , dropping the initial n from other languages.
Incidentally, the word orange is noted for having no rhyming word.
Give it a go.