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𝘕𝘰 𝘴é 𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘥ó𝘯𝘥𝘦
𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘻𝘢𝘳,
𝘴𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘢 𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘰
𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦,
𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘻𝘤𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘦ñ𝘰𝘴,
𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘴
𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘯
𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘰,
𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘦𝘳𝘥𝘰𝘴
𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘧𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯
𝘱𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘭 𝘷ó𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦
𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘴,
𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘢𝘯
𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘰𝘴
𝘢 𝘮𝘪 𝘤𝘶𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘰
𝘺 𝘢 𝘮𝘪 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘢,
𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯
𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘻𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘴
𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘦
𝘮𝘪 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢,
𝘮á𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘫𝘰𝘴
𝘶𝘯 𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘶𝘻
𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘳
𝘶𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰,
𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘻á𝘴 𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰
𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪ó𝘯
𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘴
𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘰𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘴,
𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘦𝘯 𝘢
𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘴
𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘴
𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘭 𝘷𝘪𝘢𝘫𝘦 /
𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘳á 𝘢
𝘶𝘯 𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘷𝘰,
𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘢 𝘯𝘰
𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘳é 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘰,
𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘢
𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘭 𝘮á𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭á
𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘴,
𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘳é 𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘢 𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘷𝘢 /
𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘦ñ𝘰𝘴
𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴,
𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘴
𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘻𝘰,
𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘰,
𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘳,
𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘢,
𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘤𝘪ó𝘯 𝘺
𝘦𝘨𝘰í𝘴𝘮𝘰,
𝘯𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘯
𝘫𝘢𝘮á𝘴 𝘦𝘯
𝘮𝘪 𝘭é𝘹𝘪𝘤𝘰,
𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘭
𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰 𝘮á𝘴,
𝘺 𝘦𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘮𝘢
𝘥𝘦𝘭 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰 /
𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴
𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳,
𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘴
𝘤𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢,
𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢 𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢
𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘪 𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘳,
𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘷𝘦𝘻 𝘶𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘢
𝘭𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘭 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘰,
𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘦 𝘭𝘢
𝘧𝘰𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢
𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘢 𝘶𝘯𝘢 𝘥𝘦
𝘮𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘴.
𝘝í𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘉𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘴 𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘢
𝘌𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢
𝘊𝘈𝘙𝘙𝘐𝘓𝘖𝘉𝘖 - 𝘊Ó𝘙𝘋𝘖𝘉𝘈 - 𝘈𝘙𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘈