𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚜.     -1097

 

𝚈 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎́ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚞 𝚟𝚘𝚣 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚣𝚊 𝚕𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚗̃𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚞𝚎́𝚜 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚟𝚒𝚊.

 

𝚈 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎́ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚊 𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚘 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊.

 

𝚈 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎́ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚞 𝚖𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚕𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚞𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚋𝚎́ 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚎́𝚗 𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚊  𝚜𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚎.

 

 𝚈 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎́ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚞 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚘 𝚎𝚕 𝚘́𝚕𝚎𝚘 𝚊𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚣𝚘 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚓𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎 𝚎𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚘𝚋𝚛𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎.

 

𝚈 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎́ 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚕 𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚗̃𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚞𝚋𝚎𝚜 𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎.

 

 𝚈 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎́ 𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚊 𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚞 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚕 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚊 𝚢 𝚝𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚊.

 

 𝚈 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚍𝚎́ 𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚕 𝚘𝚌𝚎́𝚊𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚞 𝚌𝚞𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘 𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚗 𝚎𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚎.




© Marco Antonio Ojeda Pérez