Actively bored

You will never see the peculiarities
of your own language
or really appreciate its beauty
until you learn another one.

Only after emigrating,
while delving into the intricacies of English,
did I notice that in my mother tongue
there is a construction that is contrary
to the principles of logic.

The negative concord was quite a surprise,
and once I saw it, I was baffled at
how something so obvious
had escaped my notice
for almost three decades.

On the other hand, if I think of diminutives,
English is not even remotely close
to what one can achieve in Polish.

And if the doldrums struck,
in my native language, you could say I’m bored
but also express that in a more active,
if untranslatable, form.

The language of demise

My first child was never born—the foetus failed to develop a heart and died.
The doctor assured us that we had nothing to worry about because, in the first
pregnancy, such things happen often—kind of a false start—and the next one
will be perfectly fine for sure. What really struck me then was the discrepancy
in the language. I guess the child occupied the parental realm of the possible,
while the foetus was the clay-cold reality of medicine.

Anyone but us

I am not good at reading people. Perhaps this is why I focus on language—machine language,
to be precise—and would rather spend a lifetime with Turing than a moment with Shakespeare.
But if you decide to pity me, do not. Remember, you would not have read these words if it were
not for us.