Hjarta Slær, skógur Hlýðir
ᚼᛁᛅᚱᛏᛅ ᛋᛚᛅᛁᚱ ᛋᚴᚢᚴᚢᚱ ᚼᛚᛁᚦᛁᚱ
(𝘌𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘰́𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘦𝘭 𝘣𝘰𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦)
❝𝑁𝑜 𝑎𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝜄́ 𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑧𝑎𝑟.
𝐿𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑜, 𝑠𝑖 𝑒𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑒𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑎́𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑜, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑧𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑦𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑒. 𝐸𝑙 𝑏𝑜𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑢𝑛 𝑙𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟; 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜́𝑛 𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑐𝜄́𝑎 𝑦 𝑎 𝑙𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒, 𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑚𝑜 𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑜, 𝑦𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑐𝜄́𝑎. 𝑁𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑏𝜄́𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠, 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑝𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝜄́𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑜 𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒.
𝐿𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑧 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝜄́ 𝑢𝑛 𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒́. 𝐿𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑢́𝑛 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑏𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑦𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑎ℎ𝜄́ 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑚𝜄́: 𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒, 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑧𝑎 ℎ𝑢́𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎, 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑜 𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑎́𝑟𝑏𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑠. 𝑇𝑜𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑎, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑠𝑖 𝑒𝑙 𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑚𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛̃𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑏𝜄́𝑎 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒.❞
| https://youtu.be/C0nMw-7rm-g |
ᚼᛁᛅᚱᛏᛅ ᛋᛚᛅᛁᚱ ᛋᚴᚢᚴᚢᚱ ᚼᛚᛁᚦᛁᚱ
(𝘌𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘰́𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘦𝘭 𝘣𝘰𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦)
❝𝑁𝑜 𝑎𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝜄́ 𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑧𝑎𝑟.
𝐿𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑜, 𝑠𝑖 𝑒𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑒𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑎́𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑜, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑧𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑦𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑒. 𝐸𝑙 𝑏𝑜𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑢𝑛 𝑙𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟; 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜́𝑛 𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑐𝜄́𝑎 𝑦 𝑎 𝑙𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒, 𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑚𝑜 𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑜, 𝑦𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑐𝜄́𝑎. 𝑁𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑏𝜄́𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠, 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑝𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝜄́𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑜 𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒.
𝐿𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑧 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝜄́ 𝑢𝑛 𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒́. 𝐿𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑢́𝑛 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑏𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑦𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑎ℎ𝜄́ 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑚𝜄́: 𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒, 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑧𝑎 ℎ𝑢́𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎, 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑜 𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑎́𝑟𝑏𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑠. 𝑇𝑜𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑎, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑠𝑖 𝑒𝑙 𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑚𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛̃𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑏𝜄́𝑎 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒.❞
| https://youtu.be/C0nMw-7rm-g |
Hjarta Slær, skógur Hlýðir
ᚼᛁᛅᚱᛏᛅ ᛋᛚᛅᛁᚱ ᛋᚴᚢᚴᚢᚱ ᚼᛚᛁᚦᛁᚱ
(𝘌𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘰́𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘦𝘭 𝘣𝘰𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦)
❝𝑁𝑜 𝑎𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝜄́ 𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑧𝑎𝑟.
𝐿𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑜, 𝑠𝑖 𝑒𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑒𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑎́𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑜, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑧𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑦𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑒. 𝐸𝑙 𝑏𝑜𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑢𝑛 𝑙𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟; 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜́𝑛 𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑐𝜄́𝑎 𝑦 𝑎 𝑙𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒, 𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑚𝑜 𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑜, 𝑦𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑐𝜄́𝑎. 𝑁𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑏𝜄́𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠, 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑝𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝜄́𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑜 𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒.
𝐿𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑧 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝜄́ 𝑢𝑛 𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒́. 𝐿𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑢́𝑛 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑏𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑦𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑎ℎ𝜄́ 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑚𝜄́: 𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒, 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑧𝑎 ℎ𝑢́𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎, 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑜 𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑎́𝑟𝑏𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑠. 𝑇𝑜𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑎, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑠𝑖 𝑒𝑙 𝑚𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑚𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑛̃𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑏𝜄́𝑎 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒.❞
| https://youtu.be/C0nMw-7rm-g |
