O Que Será?

What will it be, oh what will it be?
That they are sighing in the alcoves
That they are whispering in verses and rhymes
That they are plotting in the darkness of burrows
That walks in the heads, walks in the mouths
That they are lighting candles in the alleys
That they are talking loudly in the bars
And shouting in the markets that for sure
It's in nature
What will it be?
What has no certainty and will never have
What has no fix and will never have
What has no size...

What will it be, oh what will it be?
That lives in the ideas of these lovers
That the most delirious poets sing
That the drunken 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 prostitutes
In the plan of the bandits, the destitute
In every sense...

What will it be?
What has no decency and will never have
What has no censorship and will never have
What doesn't make sense...

What will it be, oh what will it be?
That all warnings will not prevent
Why all laughter will defy
Why all bells will ring
Why all anthems will consecrate
And all the children 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 sense...