En Una Nube Viajera

In a traveling cloud
that will reach where you are
I send from Moscow
my love to Venezuela.
I have obtained a candle
of wind and water from the north
as they don't ask for a passport
to such a light message
but I fear that the sky
doesn't transport it either.

Surely the elements
won't understand either,
who knows if they will arrive
to fall at the right time.
Perhaps a damn counterrevolutionary wind
leaves my love on the radio
of a palace, of a convent.
I must not leave it to time,
my lips must say it.

And here you see me, constructing
singing instead of flying
and you can't hear,
not because I don't try
other lights on my forehead
-virgin, long paths-
full of dreams and darts,
songs of many people
make my love braver
to the extent it tastes bitter to me.