A moment dies and is reborn.
Those who, its pleasure, scorned,
with discontented leisure brimmed
the chalice of a future grim.
\'Til one cried with a desperate plea—
To some power above or below—
\"Grant me the light to see;
my future, I must know!
However grim, however plain,
whatever misery—
can be no greater pain
than the nothing that I see.\"
Her voice in the dark called out,
And the night, in wisdom, said she,
\"Que será será, my child;
what will be, will be.\"