Farfalla

And phonesthesia gives rise to a lovely puzzle for comparative linguistics: why languages seldom share a root for their word for butterfly. In Western Europe for example, we fine ‘schmetterling’ in German, ‘vlinder’ in Dutch, ‘somerfugl; in Danish ‘papillion’ in French, ‘mariposa’ in Spanish, ‘farfalla’ in Italian, and ‘borboleta’ in Portuguese. The puzzle is that with just about every other kind of word, these languages share roots promiscuously. The words for cat, for example are ‘Katze,’ ‘Kat,’ ‘kat,’ ‘chat,’ ‘gato,’ ‘gatto,’ and ‘gato’. A clue may be found in the fact that while the exact word for butterfly in may languages is proprietary, it often has a reduplicated sound, most often b, p, l, or f, as in Hebrew ‘parpar,’ Italian ‘farfalla,’ and Papuan fefe-fefe’. It’s as if the words are supposed to act out the fluttering of the wings! Not all the names are phonesthetic; we also find allusions to the butterfly’s properties, real or mythical. In English it’s a fly with the color of butter, or that consumes butter, or whose droppings look like butter (the folk etymology that identified butterfly as a spoonerism for ‘flutter-by’ is appealing but untrue. Why the reluctance to share these metaphors and allusions? No one knows, but I am fond of the speculation by the linguist Haj Ross:

‘The concept/image of butterfly is uniquely powerful one in the group minds of the world’s cultures, with its somewhat unpromising start as a caterpillar followed by its dazzling finish of visual symmetry, coupled with the motional unforgettability of the butterfly’s flipzagging path through our consciousness. Butterflies are such perfect symbols of transformation that almost no culture is content to accept another’s poetry for this mythic creature. Each language finds its own verbal beauty to celebrate the stunning salience of the butterfly’s being.” ~ Page 303 (“The Stuff of Thought” ~ Steven Pinker)