O Que Será (À Flor da Terra)
Chico Buarque
What Will Be (At the Surface of the Earth)
What will be, what will be?
That are sighing in the alcoves
That are whispering in verses and rhymes
That are arranging in the darkness of the dens
That walks in the minds, walks in the mouths
That are lighting candles in the alleys
That are speaking loudly in the bars
And shouting in the markets that for sure
It's in nature
What will be, what will be?
What doesn't have certainty and will never have
What can't be fixed and will never have
What has no size
What will be, what will be?
That lives in the ideas of these lovers
That the most delirious poets sing
That the intoxicated prophets swear
That is in the pilgrimage of the mutilated
That is in the fantasy of the unhappy
That is in the daily life of the harlots
In the plan of the bandits, the destitute
In every sense
What will be, what will be?
What has no decency and will never have
What has no censorship and will never have
What doesn't make sense
What will be, what will be?
That all warnings will not prevent
Why all laughs will challenge
Why all bells will ring
Why all hymns will consecrate
And all the boys will run wild
And all destinies will meet
And even the Eternal Father who never went there
Looking at that hell will bless
What has no government and will never have
What has no shame and will never have
What has no judgment
What will be, what will be?
That all warnings will not prevent
Why all laughs will challenge
Why all bells will ring
Why all hymns will consecrate
And all the boys will run wild
And all destinies will meet
And even the Eternal Father who never went there
Looking at that hell will bless
What has no government and will never have
What has no shame and will never have
What has no judgment
