Poem: "Dancing with the Beast of Tanagra"
This poem came out of the November 3, 2009 Poetry Fishbowl. It was prompted by stonetalker, cheered by several other people, and sponsored by janetmiles. It refers to an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation and there is a "Darmok Dictionary" online. I am really pleased to be able to share this with you, because "Darmok" was one of my favorite episodes and a splendid example of xenolinguistics.
Dancing with the Beast of Tanagra
“Darmok” -
This was the episode
I watched with my ears set to the screen
and a cup of tea cooling in my hands,
a friend and myself knee-to-knee on the floor,
both of us calling out translations and hypotheses
as quickly as we could think of them,
breathless and laughing,
even in the face of tragedy.
Even when we guessed wrong
and had to revise our ideas
Shaka, when the walls fell
it was exhilirating just to stretch out
and fly beyond the boundaries of the human brain
into a language so vivid with imagery.
It reminded me instantly of the saying
that learning a new language
is like wrestling with an angel,
the object being not to win but to surrender,
brawl becoming embrace:
Sokath, his eyes uncovered!
Every language is an ocean undiscovered,
an island untamed and dense with wilderness.
In every ocean there are deeps and storms,
on every island, beasts -
for to open yourself to a language
is to swallow its ideals and its reasoning
without ever knowing if it will destroy you
or reward your sacrifice with untold riches.
Darmok and Jelad at Tanagra.
Picard and Dathon at Eladril.
There is only the ocean and the jungle,
and the warmth of a friend by your side,
and the words in your ears like the beating of breakers
when you go forth to dance with the beast of Tanagra.
Open your mind like a door,
and believe that what you receive will be worth the risk.
Temba, his arms wide.
Dancing with the Beast of Tanagra
“Darmok” -
This was the episode
I watched with my ears set to the screen
and a cup of tea cooling in my hands,
a friend and myself knee-to-knee on the floor,
both of us calling out translations and hypotheses
as quickly as we could think of them,
breathless and laughing,
even in the face of tragedy.
Even when we guessed wrong
and had to revise our ideas
Shaka, when the walls fell
it was exhilirating just to stretch out
and fly beyond the boundaries of the human brain
into a language so vivid with imagery.
It reminded me instantly of the saying
that learning a new language
is like wrestling with an angel,
the object being not to win but to surrender,
brawl becoming embrace:
Sokath, his eyes uncovered!
Every language is an ocean undiscovered,
an island untamed and dense with wilderness.
In every ocean there are deeps and storms,
on every island, beasts -
for to open yourself to a language
is to swallow its ideals and its reasoning
without ever knowing if it will destroy you
or reward your sacrifice with untold riches.
Darmok and Jelad at Tanagra.
Picard and Dathon at Eladril.
There is only the ocean and the jungle,
and the warmth of a friend by your side,
and the words in your ears like the beating of breakers
when you go forth to dance with the beast of Tanagra.
Open your mind like a door,
and believe that what you receive will be worth the risk.
Temba, his arms wide.