(Otra imagen en mi cabeza)
A Caroline Wilson
El coche da la vuelta en una rotonda (rondabout) en Córdoba, saliendo de la avenida Madrid. Habíamos cantado canciones mexicanas, Pedro Infante, José José, Juan Gabriel y Agustín Lara, hasta que se nos cerró la garganta y los ojos se nos llenaron de lagrimas. El Blue Demon (cuya pronunciación era "Blu dimon", porque descubrimos que habíamos vivido engañadas) estaba lleno de bolsas de plástico vacías y cáscaras de naranja. Antes de tomar derecho (straight ahead) le pregunté a Caroline (Caro) si podía cantarnos una canción típica de Inglaterra, que no fuera precisamente Rock Indie.
Entonces, después de una pequeña explicación sobre las canciones celtas, con su voz, cuyo tono violaceo no termino de comprender grave o agudo, Caroline empezó a cantar Greensleeves. El sonsonete, que se perdió algunos instantes con las bobas imprecisiones del camino que intercambiabamos Lizeth y yo justo antes de perdernos, era inconfundible: era la cancioncita de mi pianola de niña (si, había salsa, rock y la tonada de Greensleeves).
Y allí estabamos dando vueltas a las rotondas interminables de Córdoba, mientras Caroline cantaba una canción que ambas conociamos desde niñas.
***
[and now, Caz, if I am trying to translate my unimportant text, it's not because my english is perfect, or because it's so worth it, it's only because I want to share it with you... Let's try]
(Another image in my mind)
To Caroline Wilson
The car turns on a rondabout (rotonda) in Córdoba, just at the end of Madrid avenue. We have been singing mexican songs of old-fashion mexican singers, who almost all of them wear big moustaches or big hats, until we got a lump in the throat and it brought tears to our eyes. The Blue Demon (with the real english pronunciaton, because we just discovered that we were been living in a lie until now) was full of empty plastic bags and orange's rinds. Before turning (tomar la rotonda) on the rondabout I asked Caroline (Caz) if she could sing for us a folk english song, that it were not indie rock in fact.
Then, after a little explanation of the celtic songs, with her voice, with her purplish tone that I still can get if it is deep or treble, Caroline began singing Greensleeves. The drone, that was blured for a moment in front of the silly mumblings that Lizeth and I used to exchange just before getting lost, was distinctly: it was the song of my child's keyboard (yes, it had salsa rhythm, rock rhythm and the greensleeves's tune).
We were there turning around the endless rondabouts of Cordoba, while Caroline was singing one song that both of us knew since our childhood.
***
Thank's your for being you Caro :)
***
Janik
