Our happiness is like a balloon of gas.
It does not have a certain volume or mass.
It floats as near as almost within reach,
But flies away again out of our siege.
It is blown away to an ever ending beach,
Then across the ocean it begins to cease
Thus bringing our hopes to a sudden crash.
This elusive balloon may fly away.
The playful wind makes it sway.
If someone pinches it and make it blow
We will flow,
To a dark stage of endless sorrow.