"𝚈𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚜 𝚎𝚕 𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚜.
𝙴𝚕 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚘 𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚜 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚊
𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝙰𝚍𝚊́𝚗, 𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊
𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚜, 𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚜.
𝚈𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚘𝚜 𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊 𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜
𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚙𝚒𝚘 𝚢 𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚎́𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚘. 𝙻𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚓𝚊,
𝚕𝚊 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚞𝚙𝚌𝚒𝚘́𝚗 𝚢 𝚕𝚊 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚓𝚊,
𝚕𝚘𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝚖𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎 𝚢 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜.
𝙽𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚢 𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚊
𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚊́𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎.
𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣𝚊 𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎
𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚋𝚛𝚊́ 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚒 𝚜𝚘𝚋𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚊."
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