Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Oh qué será, artist - Jorge Drexler.
Date of issue: 14.03.2005
Song language: Spanish
Oh qué será(original) |
Oh que será, que será |
Que andan suspirando por las alcobas |
Que andan, susurrando en versos y trovas |
Que andan, escondiendo bajo las ropas |
Que andan en las cabezas y anda en las bocas |
Que va encendiendo velas por callejones |
Lo dicen en voz alta en los bodegones |
Gritan en el mercado, está con certeza |
En la naturaleza, será que será |
Que no tiene certeza, ni nunca tendrá |
Lo que no tiene arreglo, Ni nunca tendrá |
Que no tiene tamaño |
Oh que será, que será |
Que vive en las ideas de los amantes |
Que cantan los poetas mas delirantes |
Que juran los profetas embriagados |
Que esta en las romerías de mutilados |
Que esta en las fantasías mas infelices |
Lo vive en dia a dia las meretrices |
Lo piensan los bandidos, los desvalidos |
Y en todos los sentidos, será que será |
Que no tiene decencia, ni nunca tendrá |
Que no tiene censura, ni nunca tendrá |
Que no tiene sentido |
Oh que será, que será |
Que todos los avisos no van a evitar |
Porque todas las risas van a desafiar |
Y todas las campanas van a replicar |
Porque todos los signos van a consagrar |
Porque todos los niños se habrán de zafar |
Y todos los vecinos se irán a encontrar |
Y el mismo padre eterno que nunca fue allá |
Al ver aquel infierno lo bendecirá |
Que no tiene gobierno, ni nunca tendrá |
Que no tiene vergüenza, ni nunca tendrá |
Lo que no tiene juicio |
Oh que será, que será |
Que vive en las ideas de los amantes |
Que cantan los poetas mas delirantes |
Que juran los profetas embriagados |
Que esta en las romerías de mutilados |
Que esta en las fantasías mas infelices |
Lo vive en dia a dia las meretrices |
Lo piensan los bandidos, los desvalidos |
Y en todos los sentidos, será que será |
Que no tiene decencia, ni nunca tendrá |
Que no tiene censura, ni nunca tendrá |
Que no tiene sentido |
(translation) |
Oh what will be, what will be |
who are sighing through the bedrooms |
Who walk, whispering in verses and trovas |
That they walk, hiding under the clothes |
That walk in the heads and walk in the mouths |
That goes lighting candles through alleys |
They say it out loud in the still lifes |
They shout in the market, it is with certainty |
In nature, it will be that it will be |
That is not certain, nor will it ever be |
What has no fix, will never have |
that has no size |
Oh what will be, what will be |
That lives in the ideas of lovers |
That the most delirious poets sing |
That drunken prophets swear |
What is in the pilgrimages of mutilated |
What is in the unhappiest fantasies |
The prostitutes live it day by day |
The bandits think it, the underdogs |
And in every way, it will be that it will be |
That he has no decency, nor will he ever have |
That has no censorship, nor will it ever have |
that doesn't make sense |
Oh what will be, what will be |
That all the warnings will not prevent |
'Cause all the laughs go to defy |
And all the bells will chime |
Because all the signs will consecrate |
Because all the children will have to get away |
And all the neighbors will go to meet |
And the same eternal father who never went there |
Seeing that hell will bless him |
That has no government, nor will it ever have |
That has no shame, nor will it ever have |
What has no judgment |
Oh what will be, what will be |
That lives in the ideas of lovers |
That the most delirious poets sing |
That drunken prophets swear |
What is in the pilgrimages of mutilated |
What is in the unhappiest fantasies |
The prostitutes live it day by day |
The bandits think it, the underdogs |
And in every way, it will be that it will be |
That he has no decency, nor will he ever have |
That has no censorship, nor will it ever have |
that doesn't make sense |