O Que Será (À Flor da Terra)

What might it be, might it 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 might it be, might it be?
That doesn't have certainty and will never have
That can't be fixed and will never be
What has no size

What might it be, might 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 harlots
In the plan of the bandits, the destitute
In every sense

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

What might it be, might it be?
That all warnings will not prevent
That all of the laughs will challenge
That all of the bells will ring
That all of the 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 might it be, might it be?
That all warnings will not prevent
That all of the laughs will challenge
That all of the bells will ring
That all of the 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