by Joe Hayes
Y puedes estar seguro de que los niños de aquel barrio regresaban a casa al anochecer. Pero parece que nadie sabe adónde fue a parar la camisa, así que no hay forma de verificar esta historia.
JUAN CAMISÓN
There was once a poor woman who had a lazy son. The hardest thing he did each day was to decide whether to stay in bed late or get up early so that he’d have more time to lie around and do nothing.
On winter mornings the old woman would wake up cold and call to her son to get up and see if the fire was still burning: “Juanito, levántate, por favor. Mira a ver si hay lumbre.”
Lazy Juan would call the cat—pssst, psst. And when he felt that the cat’s side was warm, he’d know that the fire was still burning. “Sí, mamá,” he would yawn. “Sí, hay lumbre.” And he’d roll over and go back to sleep.
On summer mornings, the poor woman’s first thought was of her garden where she raised what little food they had to eat. As soon as she awoke she’d ask her son to go see if it had rained during the night. “Juanito, mira a ver si cayó agua.”
But Juan wouldn’t get up. He would just whistle for the dog and feel its fur. When he felt that the fur was wet, he’d say, “Sí, mamá, cayó agua.”
So you see how lazy Juan was. But in spite of that, and even though there was little in the house to eat, he grew to be a very large boy. He grew so large, in fact, that his mother couldn’t afford to buy him proper clothes. She dressed him in a long shirt that hung to his knees, and that was all he wore.
Because of his strange clothes, people started calling him Juan Camisón—Big Shirt Juan. Whenever he walked out, the children would dance along behind him chanting:
Juan Camisón, ¡te falta pantalón!
Juan Camisón, you’ve got no pants on!
Finally Juan got so big that his mother couldn’t feed him any longer, and she sent him out into the world to earn his own living.
Juan started down the road, and when he had been walking for about an hour, he saw an old sombrero that someone had thrown away by the side of the road. Juan picked up the hat and put it on his head, thinking he looked quite fine in it.
A short way farther down the road Juan saw a spring by the side of the road and thought he’d get a drink. But when he stooped down to drink, he saw several flies in the mud by the water’s edge.
“Ho!” said Juan. “I’m not going to share my water with flies.” And he took off his hat and swatted those flies.
What a good hit! Juan counted the flies he had killed and there were seven of them! He felt very proud of himself and wanted the world to know how great he was. So he took some of the mud from beside the spring and wrote on his sombrero:
Soy Juan Camisón
¡Que mata a siete de un arrempujón!
I’m Juan Camisón
Who kills seven at a blow!
And after all that work, Juan was tired and decided to take a nap. He leaned against a tree, and pulled his sombrero down over his face and went to sleep.
While he was asleep, the king’s messenger happened to come riding by. He saw Juan sleeping against a tree and thought that he had never seen such a big man. Then he read the words on Juan’s sombrero. “What’s this?” he said to himself. “A man who kills seven with one blow! That’s just the sort of man I’m looking for.”
For you must know that the king was fighting a bitter war with an enemy king, and his only hope of victory had rested on a strong man named Macario. But the enemy had found a way to poison Macario’s food, and the champion died. The king had sent his messenger to search for a new hero—and here was a man who killed seven with one blow!
The messenger galloped back to tell the king of his find. The king himself rode out to ask Juan Camisón to be his new champion. Before Juan knew what was happening, he found himself with the king’s army at the battlefield being dressed for combat.
The general sent for a suit of armor for Juan, but the only armor big enough to fit him was that of the dead hero Macario. And the only horse strong enough to carry Juan was Macario’s own charger.
So Juan Camisón was dressed in Macario’s armor and hoisted into the saddle. Poor Juan Camisón! He had never ridden a horse before. He swayed back and forth in the saddle and clung to the horse’s mane with both hands.
And that horse was so fierce and battle-crazy that when he saw the enemy army, he reared up and then charged at full gallop.
Juan bounced up and down in the saddle, flopping from one side of the horse to the other. All the while he was screaming to his companions that he was falling. “¡Me caigo-o-o! ¡Me caigo-o-o!”
“I’m falling! I’m falling!” he continued to scream as the horse raced across the battlefield toward the enemy, and his arms and legs thrashed wildly in the air.
When the enemy saw him, they couldn’t believe their eyes. They thought they had killed Macario, but here was this wild man charging furiously toward them with horse and armor they recognized as Macario’s. When he drew nearer, they could hear his screams. “¡Me caigo-o-o! ¡Me caigo-o-o!”
But to them it sounded as though he was shouting, “Macario! Macario!”
“Do you hear that?” they said to one another. “He’s shouting his name. It’s Macario. He’s returned from the dead. He wants us to know he’s coming for revenge! Who can fight a man who overcomes death itself?” They started to retreat.
Just then Juan’s horse took him past a small tree. Juan reached out and grabbed the trunk to pull himself from the saddle, but the tree had shallow roots and came out of the ground in his hands. He charged on, flailing the tree madly about his head.
“Look!” cried the enemy soldiers. “He’s pulling the very trees up by the roots. Run for your lives!” And they all turned and fled.
When the enemy king got word of what had happened on the battlefield, he sent messages of peace immediately and returned to his own country.
Juan Camisón was presented to his own king and richly rewarded with gold. He took all his money home to his old mother and she danced up and down in her joy.
But as for Juan Camisón—he went back to bed, and he’s probably sleeping there still.
JUAN CAMISÓN
Había una vez una mujer pobre que tenía un hijo muy flojo. El único esfuerzo que hacía cada día era determinar si prefería guardar cama hasta tarde o levantarse temprano para tener más tiempo para holgazanear y no hacer nada.
Muchas mañanas en el invierno la mujer se despertaba con frío y se preguntaba si se había apagado la chimenea. Llamaba a su hijo: —Juanito, levántate, por favor. Mira a ver si hay lumbre.
El flojo de Juan llamaba al gato: pssst, pssst. Y cuando sentía que el costado del gato estaba calientito, sabía que la lumbre todavía estaba viva. Bostezaba y decía: —Sí, mamá. Sí, hay lumbre. —Y se volvía a dormir.
En las mañanas del verano, lo primero que pensaba la pobre mujer cuando se despertaba era en la hortaliza que les proporcionaba lo poco que tenían que comer. Tan pronto se despertaba quería saber si había llovido durante la noche. Llamaba: —Juanito, mira a ver si cayó agua.
Pero Juan no se levantaba. Nomás chiflaba para llamar al perro y palparle el pellejo. Si sentía que el pelo estaba mojado decía: —Sí, mamá, cayó agua.
Así de perezoso era este Juan. Pero a pesar de eso, y aunque había poco que comer en la casa, se convirtió en un muchacho grandote. Efectivamente, llegó a ser tan grande que su mamá ya no podía comprarle ropa. Lo vestía en una camisa que le llegaba a las rodillas, y esa era toda la ropa que usaba.
Por esa ropa tan rara la gente lo apodaba Juan Camisón. Siempre que salía al pueblo los niños lo seguían bailando y cantando:
—Juan Camisón, ¡te falta pantalón!
Juan creció tanto que su mamá ya no podía darle de comer y lo mandó irse de la casa para que buscara la forma de ganarse la vida.
Juan se fue por el camino y después de caminar por una hora vio un sombrero viejo que alguien había botado al lado del camino. Juan tomó el so
mbrero y se lo puso. Pensó que se veía muy guapo.
Un poco más adelante Juan vio un ojo de agua junto al camino y pensó en beber un poco. Pero cuando se agachó, vio muchas moscas en la orilla del manantial.
—¡Jo! —dijo Juan—. Yo no comparto mi agua con moscas. —Se quitó el sombrero y les propinó un sombrerazo.
¡Qué buen golpe! Juan contó las moscas que había matado y eran siete. Se sintió muy orgulloso y quería que todo el mundo supiera lo bravo que era. Tomó lodo del manantial y escribió en el sombrero:
Soy Juan Camisón
¡Que mata a siete de un arrempujón!
Después de trabajar tanto, Juan estaba cansado y decidió echarse una siesta. Se recostó contra un árbol, se caló el sombrero sobre la cara y se durmió.
Mientras dormía, tocó la casualidad de que el mensajero del rey vino cabalgando. Vio a Juan dormido contra el árbol y pensó que nunca había visto a un hombre tan grande. Luego leyó las palabras escritas en el sombrero de Juan.
—¡Qué cosa es ésta! —se dijo—. ¡Un hombre que mata a siete de un solo golpe! Es justamente el tipo de hombre que busco.
Lo que pasaba era que el rey estaba metido en una guerra desesperada contra otro rey enemigo y su única esperanza de salir triunfante había dependido de un fuerte hombrote llamado Macario. Pero el enemigo le había envenenado la comida a Macario y el héroe estaba muerto. El rey le había encargado al mensajero encontrar un nuevo campeón, y aquí se presentaba un hombre capaz de matar a siete de un solo golpe.
El mensajero regresó a todo galope para avisar al rey del hallazgo. El propio rey fue donde estaba Juan para pedirle que fuera el nuevo campeón. Antes que Juan se diera cuenta se encontraba en el campo de batalla con el ejército del rey y lo estaban vistiéndo para el combate.
El general mandó traer armamento para Juan, pero lo único que le venía era lo del difunto Macario. Y el único caballo con fuerza suficiente para sostener el peso de Juan era el caballo de Macario.
Así que vistieron a Juan con el armamento de Macario y lo subieron a la silla. ¡Pobre de Juan Camisón! Nunca antes había montando un caballo. Daba tumbos de un lado para el otro en la silla y se aferró de la crin del caballo con las dos manos.
Aquel caballo era una fiera para la batalla y cuando vio el ejército enemigo se paró en las patas traseras y se lanzó al ataque.
Juan rebotaba de arriba abajo y de un lado para el otro en la silla y gritaba a sus compañeros: —¡Me caigo-o-o! ¡Me caigo-o-o!
Batía el aire con los brazos y las piernas mientras el caballo lo llevaba a toda carrera hacia el enemigo.
Cuando los soldados enemigos lo vieron, no lo podían creer. Creían que habían matado a Macario, pero ahora venía este hombre a todo galope, montado en el caballo y vestido con el armamento que reconocían como los de Macario. Luego, cuando llegó más cerca oían que gritaba: —¡Me caigo-o-o! ¡Me caigo-o-o!
Pero ellos lo tomaron por: “¡Macario! ¡Macario!”
—¿Lo oyen? —dijeron los unos a los otros—. Grita su nombre. Sí es Macario. Ha resucitado. Quiere que sepamos que viene para vengarse. ¿Cómo podemos con un hombre que puede vencer a la muerte? —Y decidieron abandonar el campo.
En eso, el caballo de Juan lo llevó junto a un pequeño árbol. Juan agarró el tronco para salir de la silla, pero el árbol tenía pocas raíces y salió de la tierra en las manos de Juan. Siguió su carga agitando el árbol sobre la cabeza.
—¡Mira! —gritaron los enemigos. —Viene desarraigando los árboles. ¡A correr! ¡Sálvese quién pueda! —Y todos abandonaron el campo.
Cuando el rey enemigo supo lo que había sucedido en el campo de batalla, envió peticiones de paz al rey de Juan y regresó a su propio reino.
Presentaron a Juan ante su rey y éste lo recompensó con mucho oro. Juan llevó el oro a casa y se lo dio a su madre. La viejita se echó a bailar de alegría.
Pero en cuanto a Juan Camisón, se fue a acostar en la cama, y probablemente se encuentra ahí durmiendo todavía.
THE PRINCE
There is an old story about a young man whose father was a king and whose mother was a queen. Of course, that means he was a prince. Then his father and his mother died, so he should have become king. But in his land they had a law which said you had to be married to be the king. He didn’t have a wife.
Then the prince heard about a king in a faraway country who had a beautiful daughter, so he thought he would go there and see if she would marry him. He loaded four mules with gold and started on his long journey.
He had been traveling for three days when he came to a clearing in the forest. He saw a big man working with an ax, cutting firewood. The man had made thirty stacks of firewood. But when the prince looked all around he didn’t see any animals—no oxen or mules or burros—to take the firewood home.
The prince went up to the man and said, “How are you going to get this firewood home?”
The man looked puzzled. “Get it home?” he asked. “I’ll carry it home.”
The prince was amazed. “You can carry thirty stacks of firewood?”
“Of course I can. My name is Carguín-Cargón. I can carry anything.” He picked up the thirty stacks of firewood and carried them home on his shoulders.
When the prince saw how strong the man was, he asked him to work as a servant and offered to pay him with gold. So Carguín-Cargón became a servant of the prince, and they traveled along together.
Three days later, they came to a mountain. Sitting at the foot of the mountain was a young man. As they watched, the young man jumped up and ran off toward the east. They had hardly blinked their eyes, when he came back from the west.
They went up to him and said, “Did you really do what it looked like you did? Did you run clear around that mountain in the blink of an eye?”
The man shrugged. “Of course I did. My name is Corrín-Corrón. I can run faster than that when I want to.”
So the prince hired him to be his servant also. And they traveled along together—the prince, Carguín-Cargón and Corrín-Corrón.
Three days later they saw a man with a rifle, taking careful aim. But when they looked about they couldn’t see what he was going to shoot at. They walked up to him and asked, “What are you going to shoot?”
He told them, “There’s a fly sitting on a tree about two miles away. I’m going to shoot his left eye out!”
“You can shoot that well?”
“Of course I can. My name is Tirín-Tirón. I never miss anything I shoot at.”
The prince hired him to be his servant. They all traveled together—the prince, Carguín-Cargón, Corrín-Corrón, and Tirín-Tirón.
Three days later they saw a man lying with his ear against the ground, listening. They stepped up quietly and whispered, “What are you listening for?”
He hushed them. “Shhh. Over in China, a woman dropped a needle on the ground. I’m listening to it bounce.”
“You can hear a needle drop on the other side of the world?”
“Of course. My name is Escuchín-Escuchón. I hear everything in this world and the other world too.”
The prince hired him to be his servant, and they all traveled along together—the prince, Carguín-Cargón, Corrín-Corrón, Tirín-Tirón, and Escuchín-Escuchón!
Three days later, they came to the faraway kingdom. But they found out that the king was very jealous and didn’t want any man to marry his daughter. If a man came there wanting to marry her, he would have to pass some very difficult tests.
First, he would have to run a race with the princess. She was a fast runner, and if he lost the race, the king would cut off his feet. Already two hundred young men had lost their feet!
But the prince went to the king and said, “I’m not worried at all about the race. It will be so easy, I’ll just let my servant run in my place.”
The king said, “Are you sure? My daughter is a very swift runner!”
The prince waved his arm. “I’m not one bit concerned. My servant can just run in my place.
”
The next morning you can guess who stood at the starting line: the runner—Corrín-Corrón. The princess came to the starting line, the gun sounded, and they dashed off!
The princess was a fast runner— but nowhere near so fast as Corrín-Corrón. He soon arrived at the distant mountain that was the halfway point of the race and started back. When he saw how far ahead he was, he thought he would sit down and rest. Then he noticed a shady bush nearby, so he stretched out in the shade. And he fell asleep!
While he was sleeping, the princess came running along. When she saw him, and she crept over and took off his shoes. She picked some sharp thorns from the bush and put them by his bare feet. Then she ran on.
But Escuchín-Escuchón was listening. He heard Corrín-Corrón snoring. So he went and told the shooter—Tirín-Tirón. Tirín-Tirón climbed a tree and looked out across the valley. He saw Corrín-Corrón asleep, and he aimed his rifle carefully. Pow! He shot the very tip of the runner’s ear and woke him up.
Corrín-Corrón jumped up—and he stepped right on the thorns. He danced around howling and holding his foot. But Tirín-Tirón just shot some more—pow! pow! pow!—and he shot the thorns right out of his foot!
Corrín-Corrón ran on. He crossed the finish line just ahead of the princess.
The king said, “Well, that was the first test. Here is the second: You will have to guess the one very strange thing my daughter has about her person. If you can do that, you may marry her. But if you fail, it will cost you your life!”
The prince walked off muttering to himself, “What can it be? Maybe she has six toes on her feet. Maybe she has a birthmark on her shoulder. What can it be?”
And the princess was also unhappy, because she had taken a liking to the prince. She was beginning to wish that she might marry him. That evening she said to her servant, “I’m so sad! My father says the prince has to guess the strange thing I have about me. No one could ever guess that!”
