𝐸𝑛 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑟, 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑗𝑜 𝑓𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑧
𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑟𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑎, 𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑧.
𝑆𝑢 𝘩𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑎, 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑙 𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑜́𝑛,
𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑠 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑜́𝑛.


𝑀𝑎𝑠 𝘩𝑜𝑦, 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑠𝑎, 𝑏𝑎𝑙𝑐𝑜́𝑛 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙,
𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑎, 𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝜄́𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑢 𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑙.
𝐸𝑙 𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑢 𝑐𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑒, 𝑑𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑜,
𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑎𝑓𝜄́𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎, 𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑎́𝑛 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑜.


𝑆𝑢 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑜, 𝑠𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑎𝑢𝑑𝑎𝑧,
𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝘩𝑜𝑟𝑎, 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑧𝑎 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑧.
𝐿𝑎 𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑜 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑜
𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑐𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎, 𝑑𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑎𝑔𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑜.

⸻ 𝐶𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑑𝑖𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝐿𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑡