Segunda cita

I would like to amend the beginnings
of all the mists.
I would like to start each canvas
with better fortune.

I would like to stick some wings on me
and on a ledge
blow a sweet ballad
that spreads the breeze.

I would like to travel to the past
of a certain girl
who walked at night in El Vedado,
light and drunk.

I would like to settle in her life
to convince her,
so that with fewer wounds
today I could see her.

The pain that angels cannot heal
hopefully cannot return.
The song that angels do not sing
only the wind can know.

I would like to go to the starting point
of that offensive
that sank with an impotent fist
so much initiative.

I would like to go there with the crosses
of lost time
and make a path of lights,
without hatred or forgetfulness.

The pain that angels cannot heal
hopefully cannot return.
The song that angels do not sing
only the wind can know.

I would like to turn the wheel
that stops at the same place:
a mere mortal who risks
abyss after abyss.

And, before giving the coat rack
my props wings,
I would like to leave as a legacy
certainty and progress.

The pain that angels cannot heal
hopefully cannot return.
The song that angels do not sing
only the wind can know.