THE ROAD TO HAPPINESS

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  It is the story of a man who was tired of crying. He looked around and saw that happiness was before his eyes. He reached out and wanted to take it.  

  Happiness was a flower, I take it. And just having it in his hand, the flower had already withered.  

  Happiness was a sun beam. He raised his eyes to warm his face and then a cloud extinguished him.   

  Happiness was a guitar. He stroked it with his fingers, the strings went out of tune. When he came home at dusk, the man was still crying. The next morning I kept looking for happiness. On the side of the road there was a child whining. To calm him he took a flower and gave it to her. The fragrance of the flower perfumed both.  

   A poor woman trembled with cold, covered with her rags. He took it to the sun and it also got hot. A group of children sang. He accompanied them with his guitar. He also delighted in the melody. When he came home at night, the good man really smiled. I had found happiness.