In the book "The Flying Sorcerers" by David Gerrold, the protagonist couldn't figure out why the native population kept calling him 'Purple'. His universal translator worked perfectly. When he told the natives his name, (a salute to great sci-fi writer Issac Asimov) the translator said: "as a color: a sort of purple grey". Azimov. As a mauve. As a color, a sort of purple grey. That's fucking genius. He never even called it out despite all the bone carving and bit coin producing.