Poetry is not a matter of feelings, it is a matter of language.

In the words of Umberto Eco, “Poetry is not a matter of feelings, it is a matter of language. It is language which creates feelings.” These words strike with the weight of revelation, overturning the common notion that poetry flows directly from the heart. Eco reminds us that the heart alone cannot sing if the tongue is mute. Feelings may inspire, but they are like raw fire; only language gives them form, direction, and light. Without words, feelings are like thunder that never becomes rain. But through words—measured, chosen, alive—those feelings descend upon the soul of another and awaken them to beauty.

Poetry is not merely the cry of the heart; it is the shaping of that cry into something eternal. A man may feel sorrow, yet only when sorrow is clothed in words does it gain the power to move others. Consider the psalms of David. His grief, his fear, his joy—these were personal feelings. But when set into verse, into rhythm, into living language, they became the songs of nations, prayers for centuries, comfort for multitudes. The psalmist’s greatness was not only in the depth of his feeling, but in his mastery of expression. Thus Eco declares: it is language that creates the bridge, transforming private emotion into universal truth.

Look also to the tale of Homer, the blind bard who gave us the Iliad and the Odyssey. Was it mere feeling that preserved the rage of Achilles or the trials of Odysseus through thousands of years? No—it was the precision of his words, the cadence of his lines, the images he summoned. Without the discipline of language, those passions would have been lost in the winds of time. But shaped into verse, they became immortal, stirring men and women across the ages. Here we see Eco’s wisdom: language creates the feeling anew in every generation, so that the fire burns forever.

This truth speaks also to the power of the tongue in daily life. A lover’s devotion is nothing if it cannot be spoken. A leader’s resolve is powerless unless it finds words that ignite courage. A teacher’s wisdom lies dormant until it is clothed in language that awakens the minds of the young. Feelings alone are private flames, but language makes them torches to light the way for others. The gift of humanity is not that we feel, but that we can share those feelings through words.

The meaning, then, is not to diminish the importance of feelings, but to reveal their dependence upon expression. Feelings are the seed; language is the soil that nurtures, the sun that draws forth growth, the rain that gives life. Without words, feelings die unshared. With words, they live beyond the boundaries of time and self. Thus, to honor our emotions, we must also honor the craft of speaking and writing well.

The lesson for us is clear: if you would touch the hearts of others, master your words. Do not leave your feelings unshaped, for they will vanish like mist. Study the great poets, not only to feel as they felt, but to learn how they forged words into instruments of power. Let your speech be deliberate, your writing thoughtful, your tongue an ally of truth. In this way, you give your inner life a body, and your heart a voice that endures.

Practically, this means cultivating your language each day. Read aloud the works of poets and orators. Practice writing your thoughts until they shine with clarity. Speak not in haste, but with care. For words, once uttered, may pierce or heal, uplift or destroy. Recognize the sacred power entrusted to you: through language, you awaken feeling in another soul. Use that power wisely, and your words will live when you are gone.

Thus Eco’s wisdom is sealed: poetry is not feeling alone, but language that births feeling. The heart may begin the song, but the tongue completes it. And so, O listener, guard your words, cherish them, and wield them with artistry. For in every word you shape, you hold the power to stir hearts, to guide nations, and to touch eternity.