Which language do you dream in,
swear in, cry in, asked the questionnaire.
How many languages do you swim in,
drown in, breathe in, mime in?
Do you know how many tongues have adopted
your voice? And when at night you stare
at dark walls and one pair of lips
comes closer, whispering in perfect German
Ich bin deine Mutter -
Or the night shadows enlarge into a Fritz Lang
open scream and Muttersprache appears
on the silent movie screen, then:
what do you reply? In which language,
and how clearly, do you say: my mother tongue
is somewhere in the recesses of my mind.
I am not an orphan. I have a mother.
She put me to bed one night
and went away. The film we made
together has long been silent. But I still
hear her voice in the keyhole of my heart.
© Nora Nadjarian
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A poem I wrote in 2003, at a time when I was considering mother and other tongues. Ironically, I wrote it back then as if my mother tongue was German (which it isn't) and just recently I have met two members of Fictionaut who are Germans writing in English... This one's for you Finnegan and Dorothee!
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I like this, Nora. 'Muttersprache' works well in German, I think. The language is good for providing compound nouns! The colon after 'then' had me a little confused, but I never argue punctuation or anything else with a poet.
I found this very affecting, partly because my own mother died not long ago but also because the question of what it means to be at home in another language engages me. Maybe it's the season, but when I see ". . . silent. But I still / hear. . . ." I am reminded that "stille" means "silent" in German. We can hear silently the mutterings of our mothers (a false cognate but cogent).
I love this, Nora. It speaks in and for all languages known.
"The film we made/together has long been silent." Nice metaphor for a complicated relationship.
this poem went right under my skin when i first read it. so powerful, with the questions it raises.
thanks, Nora. Vielen Dank.
This is amazing work, Nora. So wonderful. Great, great ending.
deeply honoured, nora, thanks. a wonderful poem with a great ending. but i'm also with daniel-thought about my mother today and your ride to mother moon touched me deeply. i may have to put this one under my pillow. perhaps it'll recite itself, translate itself into my mother tongue?
I love this poem, Nora. My mother is German & though I don't speak German, the language feels like home to me.
hey guys, thank you all. danke, merci, efcharisto (that's greek)...
guess what, the time is 5:15 am...and guess what... i just found out that my story Zoo won the Three Cheers award in the PicFic fall awards. Which means it's been made into a lovely video... YAY!!!!!!
Nora--congratulations! That's wonderful!
thanks susan. i just sent you a msg with the link, hope it works :-))
Nora, I love this. As a stutterer, I'm always fascinated by language and the inability/ability to express.
Cheers on your Picfic Award! I can't wait to watch the video. When I won, my wife said it was so great to hear my story read by someone other than me. She said the story sounded a lot better.
my reading of this piece is now on youtube at http://bit.ly/5Rt9m5 - enjoy.
A terrific poem. And a great reading on youtube as well.
Enjoyed.
When I read your poem I felt incredibly sad at the end. I was surprised by the strength of the feeling. But when I listened to Finn read it, I didn't feel so sad. Somehow on paper it became more about 'mother' for me, but when he read it, I remained in the sphere of the 'mother tongue' and language.
very interesting comments! that's one of the reasons i love fictionaut, the fact that you get such excellent feedback from wonderful people :-))
i also, speaking with my first tongue, find kate's observation very interesting. the 2nd tongue and the 'reading aloud' group are crossing swords. txs for your kind words on the reading. pure delight to do this for this poem.
I love the line, "I am not an orphan. I have a mother." And then the great turn where she puts the narrator to bed and goes away. Lovely and sad.
Stirring. Brings to mind the concept of (m)other tongue...a language that will always be foreign to someone outside of a certain set of experiences.
Gorgeous and lyrical, structured like a German expressionist painting.
I'm very moved by this poem.
My mother nowadays responds to me in English in my dreams, rather than in German. I keep wishing that that means something, but even if it did, I wouldn't know what.
Hi Beate, what an interesting comment you have made. It always fascinates me how a poem can bring out so many reactions from people, and this one has certainly touched German speakers
I just came across this poem and fell in love with it. I thought of my father who in his last days reverted to his childhood village language mixture of austrian german polish and yiddish and who knows what else. No one could any longer converse with him. He kept calling for his mother.