𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘺
𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬.
𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯,

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢
𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥,

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬
𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰 ...

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴
𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘴,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬.

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