Mujeres de Calahorra I

Ayer me parece que volaron muchas cigüeñas de Tudela, camino de África. Estuvieron horas dando vueltas en el cielo, hacía cierzo. Hoy, además, de cierzo, ha empezado a hacer frío. Septiembre está aquí y la gente tiene horarios de septiembre y va siendo hora de sacar las chaquetas. Es extraño, llevo todo agosto trabajando y la gente ha vuelto de vacaciones ya. A ver cuántas cigüeñas se quedan a pasar el invierno, adoro su crotorar.

Hoy hemos estado en Calahorra, una ciudad tremenda, una suave locura bizarra. La judería bien merece la pena de perderse por ahí, lástima de fotos. A lo que le he sacado fotos son a algunas mujeres. La primera es la estatua que hay a uno de los extremos del paseo del Mercadal (en el otro está la Picota); simboliza la tenaz lucha de los calagurritanos de cuando entonces, que prefirieron practicar el canibalismo antes que rendirse a los cartagineses ni a los romanos. Qué gente más bruta. La Calagurra lleva en la mano un brazo que mordisquea impaciente mientras espera que vengan las legiones del César. Luego de ahí nació Quintiliano y unos pastelitos estupendos que hacen: las lenguas y otros de canela o miel que nunca me acuerdo de cómo se llaman. La estatua vigila benevolente cómo los calagurritanos de hoy aprovechan los últimos días de terraceo y comen chucherías en las mesas.

La canción es de Woodie Guthrie, aunque la conocí por los Klezmatics. Es preciosa.

Oh, will you come when I call you?
I’ll come when you call me.
I’ll call you at half-past one!
One’s for the pretty little baby that's
born, born, born and gone away.

Oh, will you come when I call you?
I’ll come when you call me.
I’ll call you at half-past two.
Two's for the love of me and you.
One's for the pretty little baby
that’s born, born, born and gone away.

Oh, will you come when I call you?
I’ll come when you call me.
I’ll call you at half-past three.
Three’s for these warships at sea.
Two's for the love of me and you.
One's for the pretty little baby
that’s born, born, born and gone away.

Will you come when I call you?
I’ll come when you call me.
I’ll call you at half-past four.
Four's for the guns of this war.
Three’s for these warships at sea.
Two's for the love of me and you.
One's for the pretty little baby
that’s born, born, born and gone away.

Oh, will you come when I call you?
I’ll come when you call me.
I’ll call you at half-past five.
Five's for these warplanes that fly.
Four's for the guns of this war.
Three’s for these warships at sea.
Two's for the love of me and you.
One's for the pretty little baby
that’s born, born, born and gone away.

Oh, will you come when I call you?
I’ll come when you call me.
I’ll call you at half-past six.
Six for the cities all wrecked.
Five's for these warplanes that fly.
Four's for the guns of this war.
Three’s for these warships at sea.
Two's for the love of me and you.
One's for the pretty little baby
that’s born, born, born and gone away.

Oh, will you come when I call you?
I’ll come when you call me.
I’ll call you at half-past seven.
Seven for continents blowed up.
Six for the cities all wrecked.
Five's for these warplanes that fly.
Four's for the guns of this war.
Three’s for these warships at sea.
Two's for the love of me an you.
One's for the pretty little baby
that’s born, born, born and gone away.

Oh, will you come when I call you?
I’ll come when you call me.
I’ll call you at half-past eight.
Eight for my eight billion graves.
Seven for continents blowed up.
Six for the cities all wrecked.
Five's for these warplanes that fly.
Four's for the guns of this war.
Three’s for these warships at sea.
Two's for the love of me and you.
One's for the pretty little baby
that’s born, born, born and gone away.

Oh, will you come when I call you?
I’ll come when you call me.
I'll call you at half-past nine.
Nine for the crippled and blind.
Eight for my eight billion graves.
Seven for continents blowed up.
Six for the cities all wrecked.
Five for these warplanes that fly.
Four for the guns of this war.
Three’s for these warships at sea.
Two's for the love of me and you.
One's for the pretty little baby
that’s born, born, born and gone away.

Oh, will you come when I call you?
I’ll come when you call me.
I’ll call you half-past ten.
Ten for the atom bomb loose again.
Nine for the crippled and blind.
Eight for my eight billion graves.
Seven for continents blowed up.
Six for the cities all wrecked.
Five's for these warplanes that fly.
Four's for the guns of this war.
Three’s for these warships at sea.
Two's for the love of me and you.
One's for the pretty little baby
that’s born, born, born and gone away.