Ꮇ૦Ꮢ𝚃𝞔Ꮇ Ꮇ𝔸𝑵Ɩ𝐹𝞔𝘚𝚃૦

𝐻𝑎𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑎,

ℎ𝑎𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑎𝑐𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑎, 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑎 𝑙𝑜 𝑎𝑐𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑑𝑜𝑟 𝑦 𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑎, 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒́𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜 𝑣𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟 𝑏𝑖𝑒𝑛.

𝑌 𝑒𝑙 ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑜 𝑟𝑜𝑗𝑜 𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑔𝑎 𝑦 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑜 𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑒́𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑠𝑒, 𝑚𝑎́𝑠 𝑠𝑒 𝑣𝑎 𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑎 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑎.

𝐻𝑎𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖 𝑏𝑎𝑛̃𝑒𝑟𝑎, 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑗𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑔𝑢𝑎 𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑠, 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎 𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑦 𝑛𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑙𝑜 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑟𝑒, 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑙𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑔𝑢𝑎, 𝑦 𝑛𝑜 𝑎ℎ𝑜𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑠𝑒 𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎.

𝐻𝑎𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖 𝑏𝑎𝑛̃𝑜́, 𝑞𝑢𝑒́ 𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒́𝑠, 𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑚𝑖 𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑎, 𝑚𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜, 𝑚𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑗𝑜𝑠 𝑦 𝑚𝑖 𝑝𝑖́𝑒𝑙.

𝑌 𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎 𝑦 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑏𝑢𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑟, 𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑙 𝑜𝑖́𝑑𝑜 𝑦 𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑎́ 𝑏𝑖𝑒𝑛, 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑎𝑙 𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑦𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑖𝑒́𝑛 𝑎𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑒́.

𝐻𝑎𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑎, 𝑞𝑢𝑒́ 𝑛𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑗𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑜́ ℎ𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑢𝑑𝑎 𝑦 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑎 𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑜́ 𝑎 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎, 𝑦 𝑙𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎, 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑑𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑦 𝑠𝑖 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑙𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑎 𝑦 𝑙𝑎 𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛̃𝑎 𝑎𝑛ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑟.

𝑆𝑒 𝑣𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑣𝑎 𝑐𝑒𝑑𝑎 𝑦 𝑛𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒́.

𝑆𝑒𝑎 𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑜𝑑𝑜́𝑛 𝑦 𝑛𝑜 𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑠,

𝑌 𝑐𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑜𝑗𝑜𝑠, 𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑜𝑑𝑜́𝑛 𝑏𝑎𝑛̃𝑎𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑒𝑑𝑎, 𝑠𝑖 𝑛𝑜 𝑢𝑛 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑧𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒 ℎ𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑜, 𝑦 𝑙𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑎, 𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑒 𝑙𝑎.𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎, 𝑠𝑒 𝑗𝑎𝑙𝑎 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜, 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒, 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛̃𝑜 𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑥𝑖𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑎 𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑟𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑑𝑎.

𝐻𝑎𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖 𝑏𝑎𝑛̃𝑜, 𝑞𝑢𝑒 ℎ𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑜́ 𝑣𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑠 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑦 𝑙𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑗𝑎𝑟, 𝑦 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑗𝑎𝑛 𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑙.

𝑌 𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑦, 𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑜́𝑙𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑦, 𝑐𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑎, 𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑐𝑎 𝑦 𝑗𝑎𝑙𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑎 𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑎.

𝐻𝑎𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑎ℎ𝑜𝑔𝑎́𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖 𝑏𝑎𝑛̃𝑒𝑟𝑎, 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑟 𝑦 𝑛𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑎, 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑦 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛, 𝑦 𝑐𝑢𝑎́𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑛𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑗𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑙, 𝑦 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒, 𝑛𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑒, 𝑛𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑙.

𝑌 𝑐𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛 𝑦 𝑠𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑢 𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑒́𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑟, 𝑦 𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑖́𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑛 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑑𝑜́ 𝑗𝑎𝑚𝑎́𝑠 𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑎

𝐻𝑎𝑦 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑜𝑠...𝑌 𝑒𝑠𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑦 𝑦𝑜.