ℌ𝔞𝔡 ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔰' 𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔰,
𝔈𝔫𝔴𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔤𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱,
𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔲𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔪 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔰
𝔒𝔣 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔣-𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱,
ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔰𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔱:
𝔅𝔲𝔱 ℑ, 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔭𝔬𝔬𝔯, 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰;
ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔱;
𝔗𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔣𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔬𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰.
- 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖆𝖒 𝕭𝖚𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖗 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖘 -
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