Prisoner of My Language

We study our language when we are just born.
First, we touch and hear, taste and smell, and then we see.
We put a name on it.  And we repeat it back by sound, motion, and symbols.

Some words we cannot really translate, like the words in the greeting "Hummel, Hummel; Mors, Mors."  The people of Hamburg, Germany might be able to explain it, but it would be difficult.  In short, "mors" generally means in English "kiss my butt."

But what if it was more profound, take philosophy and theology?  Not many in the "west" understand Hinduism.  There are words like "zen" and the teachings of Kabir, that describes ideas foreign to the "west."

Unless we look beyond our language, we will be prisoners to it.

by,
Martin Braun
3/17/2020
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

De Beaulieu Avatar
March 17, 2020 at 12:39 PM
Hello Martin Braun, Yes i can see why you are a prisoner of your language. Have a nice day my friend.
Braun Avatar
March 17, 2020 at 5:54 PM
LOL! Thank you!
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace