Lo voy haciendo de noche

I'm putting together a bouquet
of flowers and melodies.
I'm doing it at night,
it'll reach you by day.

From one continent to another
packages are sent,
carrying memories
without making a sound.
Without making a sound ever
like your footsteps
that come and go
always so slow.

Here while winter
fades away and no one calls it,
over there the flowers will wander,
searching for you in the morning.

From one heart to another
packages are sent,
carrying memories
without making a sound.
Without making a sound ever
like your footsteps
that come and go
always so slow.