Winter sunshine shows the branches bare
Reveals each shape both elegant and spare
The little birds fly in and out at will
The low sun’s bright, the wind is light as well
What kind of world has human language made?
Evolution does not always pay
For language can speak love but also hate
And brings to some misfortune and black fate
Words can hurt much deeper than a knife
We may be traumatised by our own life
The bitch the witch , the charlatan, the Jew
These categories old, are ever new
Language wrote both Dante and Mein Kampf,
From ecstasy to Concentration Camp
How my heart sings 