𝙰 𝚟𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚊́𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚎,

𝚌𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚞𝚣 𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚟𝚎 𝚌𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜.

𝚃𝚞́ 𝚍𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚓𝚘𝚛, 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚜,

𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝚎𝚕 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚜, 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚜.

𝚃𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜 𝚟𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚕 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘,

𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚘, 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚘, 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘.

𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚊 𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚗 𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚘,

𝚢 𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚎𝚜, 𝚜𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚎́ 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚘.

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚊 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊́𝚜, 𝚢 𝚎𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚘,

𝚌𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚎𝚕 𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚐𝚊 𝚢 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚒́𝚛𝚕𝚘.

𝙲𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚘𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚒𝚗 𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛,

𝚢 𝚝𝚞́ 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛 𝚞𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚛.

𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚊 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚘, 𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚕 𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚐𝚊:

𝚝𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚘 𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚎́𝚋𝚒𝚕, 𝚗𝚒 𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊.

𝙴𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚣𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚊, 𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚛𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚘,

𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊 𝚟𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚘, 𝚜𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚘.

𝚂𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚝𝚞́, 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚞 𝚕𝚞𝚣 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚊,

𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚣𝚌𝚊 𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚊.

𝙿𝚘𝚛𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚘 𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊́𝚜 𝚘𝚜𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚊 𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒́𝚊,

𝚑𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚕𝚊 𝚝𝚞𝚢𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚕 𝚍𝚒́𝚊.

𝚈 𝚜𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚢 𝚍𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚎, 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚊, 𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚊, 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚊,

𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚞 𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚊 𝚗𝚒 𝚝𝚞 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚊.

𝙿𝚘𝚛𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚕𝚘 𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊, 𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚘,

𝚝𝚞 𝚋𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚊́… 𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚕 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘.