He is a lair, He is a lair, 
He is a big lair, He is a big big lair...
pretending to be happy, 
like everything is as he desired, 
but if you can open him up, 
you will see burning inside him despair's pyre, 
he is a lair, he is a lair....
always keeps a smile on his face, 
but observe for some time and you can trace, 
from the clinching of the teeth, 
in his soul there is suppressed a ball of fire, 
he is a lair, he is a lair....
moving effortlessly through the days, 
like he never gets tired, 
but if you can read his mind, 
all the time he keeps on thinking of time to retire, 
he is a lair, he is a lair....
walks there on the way, 
looks at the things and shows no interest, 
like he needs nothing, 
but in his heart he has a thousand desire, 
he is a lair, he is a lair....
so don't you believe what you see, 
he is not what he seems to be, 
he is just pretending to you and me, 
everything is fair and nothing he aspires, 
he is a lair, he is a lair....                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    