𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕠𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜 𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖,
𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕖, 𝕥𝕠𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕖,
𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕜, 𝕓𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕤,
𝔸 𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗.
𝕀𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕤 𝕤𝕨𝕚𝕞 𝕤𝕠 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨,
𝕃𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕡𝕖𝕕𝕕𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕣𝕒𝕓𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕓𝕒𝕫𝕒𝕒𝕣,
ℍ𝕖 𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖, 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕪𝕖𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕,
𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕖𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕖𝕠𝕡𝕝𝕖.
ℍ𝕖'𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕒 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕕𝕪 𝕕𝕒𝕪, 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕠 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕒𝕤 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕖,
ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕡𝕦𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕔𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕪,
ℍ𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕗𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕞, 𝕘𝕝𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕗𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙,
ℍ𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕒𝕕, 𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙.
ℍ𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜, 𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤, 𝕓𝕒𝕣𝕤,
𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕝𝕠𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕖𝕣, 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕝𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘,
𝕂𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟 𝕖𝕪𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕤,
ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕒 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞.