You might be able to name your favourite colour, food, film or holiday destination. But would you be able to name your favourite word, a word you think is more beautiful than any other?, writes Christine Madden

From May until August this year, the hunt was on to discover das schönste deutsche Wort - the most beautiful German word. The Deutscher Sprachrat (German Language Council) and the Goethe Institute sponsored a competition asking people to send in what they thought was the most beautiful German word, together with their reasons for choosing it. When they closed the polls at the beginning of August, the jury had received a staggering 22,838 submissions from 111 countries. A programme on German television last week introduced the winners and their words, together with the explanations they had for their choices, and a book featuring 160 of these words was published as well.

"We wanted people to think about the German language, to awaken their sensibility for it," explains Rolf Peter, spokesperson for the Deutscher Sprachrat. "We wanted a chance to present the German language in a positive light."

The competition proved particularly pertinent this year, with a valuable library in Weimar going up in flames in early September, and a blazing row raging over the practicalities of German language use. Characterised as a "cradle of German classicism" and a "cathedral of books", the Duchess Anna Amalia Library caught fire on the night of September 2nd, irretrievably destroying between 20,000 and 25,000 priceless volumes dating from the 16th to the 18th centuries. A further 40,000 have been freeze-dried to alleviate water damage.

The argument over the practical usage of the German language, however, smoulders on, flaring up every so often to raise the blood pressure of politicians and writers. The latter group has been particularly inventive in its invective against a proposed reform due to be finalised next summer. Approved by the German minister for culture in 1995, the Sprachreform (language reform) took effect in 1996, with both old and new rules remaining valid until August 1st 2005, when the reform is scheduled to replace the old language rules completely. The language reform involves minor grammatical and spelling changes.

Many German intellectuals, however, continue to oppose the new rules. The poet and essayist, Hans Magnus Enzensberger, has often wielded his formidable creative powers in tirades against it.

"Such a reform is as unnecessary as a goitre," he exclaimed in 1996. He went on to call the originator of the new German- language rules, Konrad Duden, a "Sesselfurzer" (loosely translated: a couch potato who farts into his comfy chair), and this year in the Bild newspaper advised people not to get angry but simply to ignore the language reform, urging that they should remove it from their computer spelling programmes.

He's not alone. Writers such as Günter Grass, Martin Walser and Elfriede Jelinek, who was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature this year, have signed a plea to the ministers for culture in Germany, Austria and Switzerland to revoke the language reform. Grass has even insisted that his publisher continues to issue his books in the old German spellings, whether the reform goes through next year or not.

Within the media, various publications have also proclaimed dissent, with the Springer publishing house, Spiegel magazine and the Süddeutsche Zeitung declaring their intention to retain the old German-language usage. In its in-house announcement, Spiegel said it had decided to postpone its final decision until the newly formed Council for German Spelling, with prominent members from all three German-speaking countries, reconsiders and ameliorates the original "botched" reform rules issued in 1996.

Amidst all this hullabaloo, German speakers must have felt great relief at being given the opportunity to have a bit of fun with words, however they're spelt. According to Peter, at the Deutscher Sprachrat, many participants voiced their delight at the "Lego building blocks" of the German language, with which different words with often unrelated meanings can be put together to form something completely new.

Many of the words submitted, including some of the winners, exemplify this characteristic of German. A Spanish participant sent in the word Fernweh (from the words fern, meaning far away, and Weh, which means pain). As a word that meant the longing for other places that were far away, she explained, it was a word she realised she had lacked all her life to describe a feeling she had.

The overwhelming emphasis of the words submitted lay on love and longing, the human desire for the kind of joy and well-being that transports one from the petty frictions of daily life. As a barometer of society, the choices indicate that Germans still crave love and security and frequently wish themselves back in the happy, carefree state of sheltered childhood - Kindergarten, Sonnenschein (sunshine) and Schmetterling (butterfly) were among those most frequently put forward. Others were Frieden (peace), Freiheit (liberty), Vergissmeinnicht (forget-me-not) and Sehnsucht (longing).

The German word for love, Liebe, emerged as by far the most popular. Other words were deemed beautiful not only for their meaning but also for their sound. The word in fifth place, for example, was Rhabarbermarmelade (rhubarb jam). Frank Niedermeyer, who sent it in, said in his explanation that when he can ask his partner, "Barbara, reich mir doch bitte die Rhabarbermarmelade" ("Barbara, please pass me the rhubarb jam"), his day is made.Another winner, Augenblick, fuses two smaller words, Auge (eye) and Blick (glance).

It means "moment", but Sabine Brenner from Switzerland, who sent in the word, explained that it was most beautiful because a glance can last longer than a moment.

Despite its popularity, the word lieben came in at number three, submitted by Gloria Bosch from Spain, who justified her choice with the simple explanation that lieben was only an "i" away from leben, which means life or to live.

Winner number two, Geborgenheit, and the ultimate winner both require explanation, as neither has exact English counterparts. Sent in by Annamaria Musakova, from Slovakia, Geborgenheit expresses a feeling for which there is no word in her own language. A sense of warmth, absolute protection and loving care all figure in this word, which dictionaries, for lack of space, reduce to "security".

In first place, the word Habseligkeiten comes as a bit of a jolt - at face value, to choose a word that translates as "belongings" seems crass materialism after the melodious and poetic sentiments of the others. But the presenter of the results, the head of the Goethe Institute, Jutta Limbach, said the jury kept coming back to it, and the explanation submitted by winner Doris Kalka, again and again.

Many aspects of the word distinguish it as typically "German"; not only the fact that it, too, is a conjunction of seemingly opposing words - haben (to have) and selig (blessed) - but also that these words express succinctly the Faustian dilemma of striving both for material wealth and spiritual blessings. The word indicates small things of no real value that nevertheless hold great meaning and importance for their owner. According to Kalka (who admitted an interest in theology), German-language semantics succeeds in bringing about the happy conjunction of these two extremes far better than poor Faust.

After the success of this venture, the Deutscher Sprachrat hopes to launch another, somewhat different, competition in the future. And if you're aching to choose a word yourself, the British Council is reportedly considering a similar campaign.

And yes, in case you're wondering, I submitted a word, too: Lebenskünstler. Deriving from Leben (life) and Kunst (art), it means someone who knows how to make a work of art out of life, who knows how to live. I can't believe I didn't win anything, but perhaps the word was in its sentiment too Irish, despite the lack of a direct English-language counterpart.