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Oh what will it be, what will it be
That is sighing through the bedrooms
That is whispering verses and troubadours
That is combining all things
That is in the minds and in the mouths
That is wandering through the alleys
That is shouting in the halls
And is something that composes from piece to piece
The nature what will it be, what will it be
That has not been fixed and will not be
Because it is never true and will not be
Because there is no one to measure it.

Oh what will it be, what will it be
That lives in the ideas of lovers
That sings the most delirious poets
That swears the intoxicated prophets
That is where the mutilated get bored
That is where the unhappy imagine
That is in every day of every crisis
Sleeping between the bandit and the helpless,
In every sense, what will it be what will it be
That has no decency and will not have it
It cannot be prohibited and will not be
Because it makes no sense.

Oh what will it be, what will it be
That not even precautions can stop it
Because all the laughter wants to laugh at it
And all the bells will announce it
And the anthem of anthems will consecrate it
And all the paths will lead to it
And all the neighbors will unite there
That almost not even God himself can avoid it
And heaven and hell will bless it
That has not been thirsty and will never be
That has not felt fear
Nor will feel it, because it has no judgment.
Oh what will it be, what will it be.

Oh what will it be, what will it be
That not even precautions can stop it
Because all the laughter wants to laugh at it
And all the bells will announce it.
Oh what will it be, what will it be...