🦇 𝔖𝔷𝔱𝔶𝔩𝔢𝔱 𝔧𝔞𝔨 𝔪𝔲𝔷𝔶𝔨𝔞 𝔨𝔯𝔲𝔠𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔟𝔦𝔧𝔞,
𝔚𝔶𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔨𝔲𝔧𝔢 𝔭𝔬ż𝔢𝔤𝔫𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔢, 𝔨𝔱ó𝔯𝔢 ł𝔷𝔶 𝔷𝔞𝔠𝔦𝔢𝔨𝔩𝔢 𝔯𝔬𝔷𝔴𝔦𝔧𝔞,
ℨ𝔞𝔠𝔦𝔰𝔨𝔞 𝔪𝔢 𝔡ł𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔢 𝔧𝔞𝔨 𝔨𝔴𝔦𝔞𝔱 𝔷 𝔡𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔴𝔞 𝔷𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔶,
𝔉𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔪 𝔫𝔞 ś𝔴𝔦𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔢 𝔯𝔬𝔷𝔭𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔞 𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔲𝔩ę𝔨𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔶,
ℑ 𝔫𝔞 𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔪𝔶 𝔨𝔯𝔷𝔶𝔨 𝔷 𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔪𝔶𝔠𝔥 𝔠𝔷𝔢𝔨𝔞,
𝔒𝔷𝔫𝔞𝔧𝔪𝔦𝔞𝔧ą𝔠 𝔫𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔪𝔦, ż𝔢 𝔬𝔡 𝔤𝔯𝔷𝔢𝔠𝔥𝔲 𝔰𝔦ę 𝔫𝔦𝔢 𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔢𝔨𝔞
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