I have been told a lie

Once I thought of this poem as one of the happiest

و همه می‌دانیم که ریه‌های لذت پر اکسیژن مرگ است

(And we all know that the lungs of pleasure are filled with death oxygen)

It took time to finally understand it

Joy is dying; when it is living when it is at its summit

Happiness is not a lie but living in happiness is a lie

When you are happy you know it you feel it it is easy, hmm?

But can you say what is happiness? So, how are you gonna get it, live in it?