The Cosmology Lesson
red dwarves white dwarves
red giants
orange supergiants
the teacher raised his hand
and with one finger
traced the diagram
on the board
suns as yellow as ours
gleaming suns
from lives like matches
atrocious explosions
scattering ashes
like bright corollas
from these ashes
the sun was formed
and Earth
and all life on it
the teacher said
boom, boom, boom!
sounds rang out
in the planetarium’s hall
sitting by the window
I pressed my face to the glass
but in the night’s darkness
I couldn’t see a thing
boom, boom, boom!
every class we heard this sound
among shadows
darkness
the invisible zoo
was sleeping
I knew there were cats
slinking about
and in the trees
peacocks
took refuge
and a big hippopotamus
was floating in its pond
revealing just its nose
and ears
boom, boom, boom!
the classes went on
the teacher made us imagine
the center of the milky way
radio waves
and dust clouds
blocking light’s passage
before every class
I flew on my motorcycle
risking my life
to get there on time
how stupid! I’d think later
once I settled in my seat
in the back
by the window
boom, boom, boom!
the banging went on
no one in class
seemed to hear it
everything started with a great
explosion
the universe
contained in one point
No way!
someone near me cried out
incredulous
the teacher shrugged
with no physics formulas
or complex mathematics
believing
that story
was an act of faith
the months went by
and the afternoons got
longer and longer
until one good day
I came to class
and there before my eyes
out the windows
was the zoo
Guineafowl
Patagonian maras
Indian peacocks
and so many cats
no light may escape
from a black hole
but I could only pay attention
to the weak rays of sunlight
illuminating
that zoo
boom, boom, boom!
until I understood
that terrible banging
against metal
was a lonely
elephant
probably going crazy
and taking out her rage
on the doors
of her prison
the universe
outstretched
nearly infinite
dying of cold
in the darkness
from the back of the classroom
I looked out
at the spring weather
and the elephant
balancing
on the edge of a ditch
I didn’t mourn the death
of the cosmos
I considered the slavery
of the pachyderm
the braided scar
on its side
its little ears
fluttering
its fresh manure
inspected by the birds
brown dwarves
and hot jupiters
cries of peafowl
in heat
and the headaches
of imprisoned elephants
I said goodbye to my classmates
unlocked my motorcycle
drove down the hill
through the cold air
I crossed over the rings
the satellites
the meteor showers
the moons white as ivory
the sad eyes of imprisonment
boom, boom, boom!
and the universe
was born.
La clase de cosmología
enanas rojas enanas blancas
gigantes rojas
supergigantes naranjas
el profesor alzaba su brazo
y con un dedo
recorría el diagrama
en el pizarrón
soles amarillos como el nuestro
soles muy brillantes
de vidas como fósforos
explosiones atroces
que esparcieron cenizas
como coloreadas corolas
de esas cenizas se formó
el sol
la Tierra
y toda la vida en ella
decía el profesor
¡bum, bum, bum!
se oyó en el salón
del planetario
sentado contra una ventana
acercaba mi rostro al vidrio
pero en la noche negra
nada se veía
¡bum, bum, bum!
cada clase ese sonido se escuchaba
entre sombras
tinieblas
el zoológico invisible
dormía
sabía que por allí andaban
los gatos
que en los árboles
los pavos reales tenían
su refugio
que un gran hipopótamo
flotaba en su estanque
asomando sólo su nariz
y sus orejas
¡bum, bum, bum!
las clases pasaron
el profesor nos hacía imaginar
el centro de la vía láctea
las ondas de radio
las nubes de polvo
impidiendo el paso de la luz
cada vez que había clase
volaba en mi moto
arriesgando la vida
para llegar en hora
¡qué tontería! pensaba después
cuando me ubicaba en mi asiento
del fondo
contra la ventana
¡bum, bum, bum!
seguían los golpes
nadie en la clase
parecía oírlos
todo comenzó con una gran
explosión
el universo
contenido en un punto
¡Andá!
gritó un vecino
incrédulo
el profe se alzó de hombros
sin fórmulas físicas
sin matemáticas complejas
aquel relato
creerlo
era un acto de fe
pasaron los meses
y las tardes se fueron haciendo
cada vez más largas
hasta que un buen día
llegué al salón
y ante mis ojos
por las ventanas
el zoológico
gallinas de Guinea
maras patagónicas
pavos reales de la India
y gatos por montones
la luz no podía escapar
de un agujero negro
pero yo sólo prestaba atención
a los débiles rayos de sol
que iluminaban
el zoológico
¡bum, bum, bum!
hasta que comprendí
aquellos terribles golpes
contra el metal
eran de la elefanta
solitaria
quizá hasta loca
desataba su ira
sobre los portones
de su prisión
el universo
estirado
casi infinito
moría de frío
en la oscuridad
desde el fondo del salón
miraba afuera
a la primavera
y a la elefanta
haciendo equilibrio
al borde del foso
no me acongojaba la muerte
del cosmos
pensaba en la esclavitud
del paquidermo
su trenza cicatriz
en su costado
sus orejas pequeñas
como aleteando
su estiércol fresco
inspeccionado por los pájaros
enanas marrones
y júpiteres calientes
gritos de pavos reales
en celo
y dolores de cabeza
de elefantes prisioneros
saludé a los compañeros
desaté la moto
tomé la bajada
y volví por el aire frío
crucé los anillos
los satélites
las lluvias de meteoritos
las lunas blancas como marfil
los ojos tristes del encierro
¡bum, bum, bum!
y el universo
nació.
✶✶✶✶
Uruguayan writer Daniel Veloso (b. 1971) is the author of one book, El aljibe y otros poemas de amor y desamor (The Cistern and Other Poems of Love and Un-love), published by Editorial Yaugurú in 2018. Since 2001 he has authored more than seventy journalistic articles on scientific and cultural topics for Uruguay’s main newspaper, El País. Also, he writes for Relaciones Magazine. When he’s not writing, he enjoys playing volleyball and collecting rare books. He lives in Montevideo’s Old City with his three mischievous cats.
✶
Jeannine Marie Pitas is the translator or co-translator of twelve books of poetry, most recently Uruguayan poet Silvia Guerra’s A Sea at Dawn (Eulalia Books 2023), co-translated with Jesse Lee Kercheval. She is the author of two poetry books, most recently Or/And (Paraclete Press 2023). She lives in Pittsburgh and teaches at Saint Vincent College.
✶
Patty Paine is the author of Grief & Other Animals, The Sounding Machine, and three chapbooks. Her writing and visual work have appeared in Blackbird, The Denver Quarterly, Gulf Stream, Waxwing, Analog Forever, Lomography, The South Dakota Review, and other publications. She is the founding editor of Diode Poetry Journal and Diode Editions and is Director of Liberal Arts & Sciences at VCUarts Qatar.
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