Sabré Olvidar (I Will Know How to Forget) is Silvana Estrada’s heartfelt declaration that pain does not get the last word. Singing over gentle Latin folk harmonies, she turns the act of forgetting into an act of courage: silence becomes a choice, a smile becomes a weapon, and distance becomes medicine. Each verse shows her trading bitterness for bravery, promising herself she will callar, bailar, gritar – stay quiet, dance, then shout – until joy fills every corner of her life again.
The chorus flips heartbreak on its head. Rather than begging for her ex’s return, Silvana wishes them a new love who can truly sing, cry, and even steal hearts. That generous wish frees her to “abandonar mi artillería” and embrace the horizon, symbolizing a fresh start. In just a few poetic lines, the song moves from sorrow to sunlight, reminding listeners that forgetting is not erasing memories but reclaiming the future with bold, melodic grace.
Silvana Estrada’s "Ser De Ti" is a heartfelt confession of total surrender. Through images of crashing seas, lost battles, and even gifting the moon, the Mexican singer-songwriter paints love as something both fragile and immense. She pleads, “Así que vuelve” – So come back – because without her partner, there is only empty noise or paralyzing silence.
The lyrics reveal a narrator who knows she is complicated yet insists that every part of her identity belongs to the person she loves. In just a few verses Estrada moves from vulnerability ("sin tus manos, este cuerpo está de más") to fierce devotion ("te doy la luna"). The result is an intimate ballad that celebrates how love can be daunting, consuming, and beautifully worth fighting for.
Silvana Estrada’s “Pena Lunar,” joined by Charlie Hunter’s hypnotic guitar lines, paints a dreamy night sky where feelings drift like constellations. The lyrics conjure a celeste moon that spins above silent, saffron-tinted winds and loveless autumns, setting a bittersweet scene that is equal parts magical and melancholic. Each image—blue calm, silent wind, red saffron—feels like a brushstroke on an abstract canvas, hinting at memories that hover just out of reach.
Under that moonlight, the singer carries a quiet ache. She watches people move “from one side to another” while her own urge to scream remains hidden, glowing softly like lunar light. The song is a gentle confession of private sorrow balanced with serene acceptance: we sense the weight of unspoken pain, yet the music keeps it floating, airy and beautiful. “Pena Lunar” ultimately celebrates how we can hold sadness close, let it illuminate us, and still move forward with grace—much like the moon itself, shining through every dark sky.
Te Guardo is Silvana Estrada’s tender promise in musical form. With poetic images like a “laugh with wings” and “crystal abysses” for every wound, the Mexican singer turns everyday feelings into magic. She sings from the perspective of someone who is ready and waiting: saving bits of faith, morning light, pending kisses, and even her pillow for the moment the other person finally decides to see her love. Although her life feels short and she struggles to decode the sparkle in the other’s eyes, she still dares to hope that hearts can meet halfway.
The song balances vulnerability and quiet confidence. Estrada reveals multiple “faces,” a voice, and a skin that beg to be understood, yet she is not paralyzed by uncertainty. Instead, she carefully stores her affection so it stays pure until the right time arrives. Wrapped in warm pop arrangements and rootsy Latin textures, Te Guardo becomes a lullaby for anyone who has ever kept a flame alive just in case love decides to return.
Silvana Estrada’s Milagro y Desastre is a poetic plea to press pause on the entire world—she wants planes grounded and ships anchored so that the wind can carry her straight to the person she longs for. In this suspended moment, love feels like a cosmic event where hope and despair swirl together. The singer is ready to surrender before ever losing, choosing to stay and let the morning bring its own answers while she keeps her beloved "rendido en mi boca" (yielding on my lips) so that neither of them ever drifts off to sleep.
The repeated chant of “Milagro y desastre” captures the song’s central paradox: love is both a miracle and a mess, a burst of wonder wrapped in uncertainty. Estrada celebrates that tension, inviting us to embrace the beauty that can bloom inside chaos and the chaos that often hides inside beauty. Listening feels like standing in the eye of an emotional storm where stillness and turbulence coexist, reminding us that the most powerful connections are forged right at the intersection of the miraculous and the disastrous.
Raise your glass and travel with Silvana Estrada through a cascade of heartfelt toasts. In Brindo she salutes everything that keeps our spirits buoyant: the hunger for freedom, the courage to change course, the strength that pushes our feet forward, and the simple beauty of life itself—rivers, sea breezes, and the hush of silence. Each "brindo" feels like a spark of gratitude for souls who have passed yet still light our way, for the wind that refuses to bow to an old storm, and for the poets and friends whose honest words become lifelines.
At its core, the song is an invitation to celebrate connection and resilience. Silvana lifts her voice in hopes of a new dawn where love and joy coexist, where lost smiles return as soft breezes, and where distant homes feel closer with every note. She toasts to chance encounters that give our voices meaning, to skin that turns into destiny, and to the long-awaited reunion with friends. Brindo reminds us that gratitude can transform the ordinary into the extraordinary, urging listeners to find music in every triumph, setback, and shared moment of being alive.
Silvana Estrada’s Se Me Ocurre is a radiant daydream in which hope wins the battle. The Mexican singer-songwriter imagines a world where “los buenos” – the good-hearted – finally come out on top, time itself wraps us in warmth, and love circles back wiser than before. She sings of meeting an old flame with fresh eyes, grateful that their shared instinct to care has survived the years. In this universe, music is more than background noise. It is the remedy for anyone feeling out of breath, a melodic medicine that revives tired spirits.
From hushed embraces that turn silence sweet, to city streets where a single kiss halts the rush of everyday life, the song celebrates love’s quietly transformative power. Estrada paints tender images – hands that heal old collapses, fear melting when people witness the wonder of affection, stars twinkling like distant fireflies. With each verse she reminds us that change is possible and goodness can prevail. Se Me Ocurre is an invitation to believe that when love leads the way, even the ordinary world can shimmer with marvels.
Silvana Estrada’s “Marchita” is the sound of a flower losing its color under the weight of unreturned love. With her warm yet fragile voice, the Mexican singer-songwriter looks back on a relationship that felt intense in the moment but was ultimately one-sided. She pictures her heart as a blossom that has wilted after “so many times” of losing this person, and every note is a sigh remembering the texture of their summer kisses, the sweetness of their hands, and the painful realization that for the other person it was all just a game.
Instead of anger, the song glows with quiet regret: If only I had known… runs through the lyrics like a soft refrain. Estrada admits she would have guarded her heart more carefully, saved herself the tears that “forgot how to pray,” and perhaps never penned this very song. “Marchita” becomes a bittersweet lesson in self-worth and vulnerability, reminding listeners that even the most delicate souls can find strength in acknowledging their own wilted petals and choosing to heal.
Silvana Estrada’s “Un Día Cualquiera” is a bright love letter to the magic tucked inside an ordinary day. Instead of fireworks and drama, the song celebrates the rush of errands, the little arguments, and the hush of cool nighttime streets that welcome lovers home. The singer longs to be a beautiful echo in her partner’s timeline, spending an entire lifetime doing nothing more heroic than gazing into their eyes.
As the verses unfold, she imagines herself as the soft murmur on her lover’s lips—sometimes a gleeful kiss, sometimes fluttering butterflies of anticipation. She promises to duel with any fear that lives in their soul so that, when dawn arrives, the very first thing to greet the new light is their intertwined bodies and her simple, heartfelt whisper: “I love you.” The song reminds us that in the rhythm of everyday life, love can feel wonderfully extraordinary.
Silvana Estrada’s song "Aquí" feels like opening a window to the soul of someone who is both wide-eyed and weary. With each cry of piedad (mercy), she begs for the chance to see the world again through the innocent excitement of a child at the seashore. She longs for the small, everyday miracles hidden in a cup of coffee or the morning newspaper and hopes to accept herself irremediablemente — hopelessly, unchangeably — just as she is.
Yet behind the gentle melody lurks a quiet urgency; Estrada confesses she is running out of days to rescue the beauty she once overlooked. Time, personified as a relentless god tapping out unwanted rhythms, pushes her forward. In repeating "aquí" (here), she tries to anchor herself in the present moment, choosing wonder over regret. The result is a heartfelt meditation on growing up, letting go of fear and learning to cherish the ordinary sparks of magic that surround us every day.
Silvana Estrada turns sadness into a character we can almost see. In Tristeza she talks directly to her own melancholy, asking it how long it plans to stick around and bargaining for small comforts: a sigh to soothe the verb amar and a careful kiss to ease the weight of missing someone who is gone. By personifying her sorrow, she turns an abstract feeling into a dialogue full of poetic imagery, letting us feel the push-and-pull between memories of lost love and the stubborn presence of pain that refuses to leave.
At its heart, the song is a gentle plea for emotional freedom. Estrada admits she once believed love would save her, yet now she begs sadness not to rewrite that truth. Each repeated line “Tristeza, déjame en paz” (Sadness, leave me in peace) is both a lament and a mantra, revealing resilience beneath the grief. The track becomes a tender lesson in self-compassion: acknowledge the hurt, speak to it, then kindly ask it to step aside so life, music, and dancing wind can flow again.
Al Norte is Silvana Estrada’s heartfelt promise that love can redraw the map. She sings that she would head “al norte” or “al sur” in a heartbeat, because the real destination is simply the company of the person she loves. Listening to her gentle voice you can almost feel a suitcase snapping shut and footsteps starting the journey. Every direction on the compass becomes a declaration of devotion.
Yet beneath that adventurous spirit lies a hint of melancholy. Silvana admits it will take “algunos días, versos y melodías” to recover, and memories of an unfinished kiss still acechan her. The song balances longing and hope, showing that travel can be both literal and emotional. For English learners, “Al Norte” is a poetic lesson in how Spanish uses everyday words like norte and sur to express gigantic feelings. Expect to come away humming the chorus and remembering that any road feels lighter when “vayas tú”— when you go along.
Silvana Estrada teams up with jazz guitarist Charlie Hunter to weave a gentle sonic cocoon in Porque Existo. Wrapped in velvety vocals and warm guitar chords, the song feels like an intimate whisper shared at dusk. Estrada sings of keeping a love "between her lips" like a cherished secret, of laughter that turns into fluttering butterflies, and of the quiet joy she finds simply because she exists in someone else’s world. The overall mood is tender, almost lullaby-like, inviting listeners to pause and breathe in the small wonders that make affection come alive.
At its heart, the track is a meditation on connection and consolation. Estrada recognizes the mysterious veil that surrounds the person she loves, yet she waits patiently for even the slightest sign that her presence brings them comfort. Each repetition of Y todo marcha bien (“And everything goes well”) reassures both singer and listener that, despite uncertainties, love’s soft glow is enough to keep hope glowing. The song reminds us that sometimes the simple fact of being there for someone — of existing — can be the most profound gift of all.
“Carta” (which means letter in Spanish) feels like opening a hand-written note that still smells of rain. Mexican singer-songwriter Silvana Estrada turns an on-again, off-again romance into a poetic seesaw between freedom and attachment. She admits that both lovers are free to leave, yet dreams of a moment when words are unnecessary and a single glance can say “I love you.” The lyrics weigh the thrill of independence against the ache of separation, painting two silhouettes who keep walking away only to look back at each other.
Rather than surrender to constant good-byes, Silvana offers a daring pact: slow down, breathe, and build a home in each other’s skin. She imagines running under an open sky, reinventing time, and laying down emotional “weapons” so fear no longer drives them apart. The river of love may never flow in reverse, and even she might leave one day, but “Carta” invites us to choose presence over precaution. It is a tender anthem for anyone caught between running away and coming home, reminding us that real courage often sounds like a quiet, steady promise to stay.