#brujos

The Legend of María Lionza: The Spiritual Heart of Venezuela 🇻🇪🐍🌳

In the heart of the Venezuelan jungle, a powerful legend was born. It began with the daughter of an indigenous chieftain, a girl born with striking emerald-green eyes. To her tribe, these eyes were a sign of her mestizaje (mixed heritage), marking her as a bridge between the indigenous people and the arriving Europeans.

This child would eventually be known as Yara, and later, as the Queen of Sorte.

The Prophecy and the Guardian

Tribal tradition warned of a Great Serpent (the Anaconda) that dwelt in the depths of the river. Fearing the girl’s unusual eyes would bring misfortune, the tribe demanded she be sacrificed to the forest's guardian spirit. However, the chieftain, moved by fatherly love, chose to defy the elders.

He hid his daughter in a sacred cave guarded by twenty-two elite warriors. His command was absolute: the girl must never see her reflection in the water, for if she did, the Great Serpent would claim her.

The Reflection and Transformation

Peace reigned until the forest spirit, sensing the broken promise, cast a deep slumber over the twenty-two guards. Drawn by the hypnotic melody of the moving water, Yara wandered to the riverbank. For the first time, she saw her own reflection. Mesmerized by her emerald eyes, she didn't notice the water begin to churn.

Suddenly, two larger eyes appeared in the reflection—the Anaconda. The legend tells us the serpent consumed her, but rather than dying, Yara’s spirit fused with the creature. She expanded from within until the serpent burst, releasing her as a divine entity. She emerged from the waters not as a victim, but as the Goddess of the Waters and the Protector of Nature, often depicted riding a tapir (danta).

The Birth of a Name

Upon her return, she reunited with her father. It was then that her Christian name, María, and her title, Lionza (derived from Nuestra Señora del Prado de Talavera de la Onza), merged to create the name we know today. She retreated into the mountains of Sorte, where she mastered the elements—transforming into a butterfly to observe the world or a green-eyed serpent to protect her lands.

Cultural Significance and Modern Identity

Today, María Lionza is revered as the Protective Queen of Venezuela. Her impact on the national identity is profound:

* The Mother of Mestizaje: She represents the "Holy Trinity" of Venezuelan myth (Las Tres Potencias), alongside the indigenous Chief Guaicaipuro and the African-descended Negro Felipe.

* Nature’s Guardian: She is the patroness of flora, fauna, and the sacred waters.

Pre-order here the book 'Pagan Portals - Maria Lionza: Folklore & Rituals of the Queen of Witches, Faeries, and Animas' : https://amzn.to/4uXZMw2

* A Symbol of Peace: It is essential to distinguish her cult from other practices. While often conflated with Santería or political movements, the original path of María Lionza is one of spirituality, healing, and light.

To this day, her statue stands in Caracas, a woman of power and grace, reminding us of our ancestors' deep connection to the earth and the spiritual realms.

Tercera Parte.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

𝑁𝑜, 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑑𝜄́𝑎 𝘩𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑜. 𝐸𝑟𝑎 𝑢𝑛 𝘩𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑒 𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑛̃𝑜, 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑎́𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑎𝑐𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑜 𝑎 𝘩𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑠𝜄́𝑙𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑠, 𝑎 𝑔𝑟𝑢𝑛̃𝑖𝑟, 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒́𝑟𝑖𝑙, 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑏𝜄́𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑑𝜄́𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑙 𝑦 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑢𝑛 𝑑𝜄́𝑎 𝑦𝑎 𝑛𝑜 𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑟𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎. 𝑁𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑑𝜄́𝑎 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑎 𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑠, 𝑑𝑜́𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑏𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑑𝜄́𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑜́𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑦 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑧𝑎́ 𝑛𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑟𝜄́𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑚𝑎 𝑠𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑒. 　　　　　　　　　 𝐸𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑑𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑙𝑙𝑢𝑣𝑖𝑎 𝑠𝑒 𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑖𝑜́ 𝑢𝑛 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝜄́𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑙 𝑏𝑎𝑛̃𝑜, 𝑒𝑛𝑣𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑡𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜 𝘩𝑢́𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑐𝘩𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑏𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑠 𝘩𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑠. 𝑆𝑜𝑛𝑟𝑖𝑜́ 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑠𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑧 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝜄́𝑎 𝑢𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑐𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜. 　　　　　　　　　 —𝑻𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒄𝒂 —𝑑𝑖𝑗𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒, 𝑦 𝑦𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝜄́ 𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑒. 𝐸𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑓𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑜́ 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑒𝑛̃𝑜, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑖 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑑, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑛𝑜 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑜́. 𝑆𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜́ 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑎, 𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑚𝜄́, 𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑜 𝑙𝑎 𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑎𝑏𝑎, 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑜, 𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑜́𝑛, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑠𝑖 𝑓𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑢́𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑠. —𝑯𝒂𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒔… —𝑚𝑖 𝑣𝑜𝑧 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑜́ 𝑎́𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎, 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛̃𝑎 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑚𝜄́— 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒏𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒅𝒓𝒆́ 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆, 𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐. 𝑵𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂, 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒐 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒅𝒓𝜾́𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒗𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝒔𝒊 𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓. 𝐸𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑜́ 𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑧𝑎, 𝑠𝑢𝑠 𝑜𝑗𝑜𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑎́𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑚𝑒, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑦𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒́ 𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟. —𝑺𝒊 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒎𝜾́, 𝒔𝒊 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒐, 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒛𝒂́ 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒓𝜾́𝒂𝒔… 𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒛𝒂́ 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒓𝜾́𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆 𝒂 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔. 𝑼𝒏𝒂 𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒂 𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒂 𝒅𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒔 𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒐𝒔, 𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒐 𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒐𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒅𝒖𝒅𝒂𝒓𝜾́𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒂𝒍𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒛𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆. —𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒́ 𝘩𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑜, 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑐𝑜́𝑚𝑜 𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑎 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑢𝑛 𝑝𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑧𝑜—. 𝑻𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒐 𝒎𝒂́𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒋𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒛𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒅𝒓𝜾́𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓… 𝒚 𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒔𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒃𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒓. 𝑷𝒐𝒓𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒚𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒚. 　　　　　　　　　 𝐸𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑛𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑜́. 𝑁𝑜 𝑙𝑜 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎. 𝐿𝑎 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜́𝑛 𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑠 𝘩𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑠, 𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑟 𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑠, 𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑗𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑎́𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑙𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑎. 𝑀𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒́, 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑒́ 𝑗𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒́ 𝘩𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑎 𝑒𝑙 𝑏𝑎𝑛̃𝑜, 𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑢́𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑧. 𝑆𝑖 𝑙𝑜 𝘩𝑎𝑐𝜄́𝑎, 𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑟𝜄́𝑎. 𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎, 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑙 𝑒𝑐𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑙𝑙𝑢𝑣𝑖𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑢́𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑔𝑜, 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝜄́ 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑚𝑖 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑎. 𝒀 𝒂𝒖𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒍𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒂, 𝒚𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒆́𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔… 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔, 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒔, 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒋𝒂𝒎𝒂́𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒅𝒓𝜾́𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒓.

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒚𝒏, 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝑵𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒆.

𝐿𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎 𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑜𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎́𝑏𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒, 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝜄́𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑢𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑔𝑖𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑎𝑟𝜄́𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑐𝘩𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑧𝑎 𝑦 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑟. 𝐿𝑜𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎́𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑠, 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑦 𝑙𝑎 𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑧𝑛𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑧𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑙 𝑏𝑜𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑒, 𝑙𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝘩𝑖𝑧𝑜 𝑎𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑟 𝑒𝑙 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝜄́𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑜. ¿𝐸𝑙 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑎.ᐣ 𝐿𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑢𝑛 𝑝𝑎𝑟 𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝜄́𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑑𝑎, 𝑎𝑠𝜄́ 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑛 𝑢𝑛 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑙 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑑𝑜. 　　　　　　　　　 𝑇𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝘩𝑜𝑟𝑎, 𝑦 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑐𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑣𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜, 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑠𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑏𝜄́𝑎𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑠 𝘩𝑜𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑜 𝑙𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑙𝑙𝑢𝑣𝑖𝑎 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑧𝑎𝑟𝑎. 𝑁𝑜𝑠𝑜𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎́𝑏𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝘩𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑧𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑠 𝑦 𝑛𝑖 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑟 𝑑𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑖𝑒́𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑜. 𝐷𝑒𝑗𝑒́ 𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑦𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑙 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑖𝑟𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑖 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑛̃𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑎𝑗𝑒 𝑒 𝑖𝑟 𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑟 𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑑𝜄́𝑎. 　　　　　　　　　 𝐴𝑙 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑟, 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑜́ 𝑟𝑎́𝑝𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒, 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑒́𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑢𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑐𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑧. 𝑈𝑛𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑗𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑎, 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑎, 𝑜𝑗𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑦 𝑣𝑜𝑧 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑜́ 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒. 　　　　　　　　　 — ¿𝑬𝒏 𝒒𝒖𝒆́ 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒐 𝒂𝒚𝒖𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒐𝒔, 𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒐𝒔 𝒎𝜾́𝒐𝒔.ᐣ —𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑟𝑖𝑜́ 𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒, 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑜́𝑛 𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑜𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑠. — 𝑩𝒖𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒐́𝒏 𝒚 𝒂𝒍𝒈𝒐 𝒅𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒂… —𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑜́ 𝑎𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝘩𝑒𝑐𝘩𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑎. — 𝑷𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐, 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝜾́𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒄𝒉𝒐 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒔. — 𝑀𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒́ 𝑢𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑐𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑟 𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑟 — 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒓𝜾́𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒊 𝒑𝒐𝒅𝜾́𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒐𝒔 𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒓, 𝒏𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒖𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒂𝒍𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒍𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒐́𝒏 𝒚 𝒍𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒂, 𝒔𝒆𝒏̃𝒐𝒓𝒂. —𝑣𝑒𝜄́𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑑𝑢𝑑𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑎, 𝑐𝑜𝑠𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝜄́𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑛𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑗𝑎𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑜𝑠. 　　　　　　　　　 𝑆𝑖𝑛 𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑜, 𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑢́𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑖 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑛̃𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑜́ 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝜄́, 𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑎́𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑗𝑒𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑧𝑜́ 𝑎 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑠𝑎𝑟 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑑𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑠𝑢 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑜́𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑜, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑑𝑒 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑎𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝜄́𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑒 𝑠𝑢 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑟. 𝑀𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑒́ 𝑟𝑎́𝑝𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒, 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑎 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑗𝑒𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑐𝜄́𝑎 𝑚𝑎́𝑠 𝑝𝑎́𝑙𝑖𝑑𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑢𝑛 𝑚𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑜. 𝑉𝑜𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑒́ 𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝘩𝑒𝑐𝘩𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑦 𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑠 𝑜𝑗𝑜𝑠 𝑠𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑛 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑏𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑢𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑎. 𝐿𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜́, 𝑦𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝘩𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑜𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑦𝑢𝑑𝑎𝑟 𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑗𝑒𝑟.

— 𝑬𝒍𝒍𝒂 𝒆𝒔 𝑰𝒎𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒏 𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒅𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒅𝜾́𝒂𝒔 𝒉𝒂 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒅𝒐 𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔, 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐́𝒍𝒐 𝒆𝒔 𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂, 𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒅𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒍𝒐 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒎𝒐, 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒅 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒓, 𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒓 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒐𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆. —𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑜́ 𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑜 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒, 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑜𝑐𝑢𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑜, 𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑜. — 𝑬𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒆𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒅 𝒆𝒔 𝒆𝒍 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒉𝒂𝒌𝒊. —𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑚𝑜́ 𝑙𝑎 𝘩𝑒𝑐𝘩𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑎. — ¿𝒀 𝒒𝒖𝒆́ 𝒆𝒔 𝒆𝒔𝒐.ᐣ —𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑜́ 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑑 𝑦 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑧𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑎. — 𝑬𝒔 𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒆𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒅 𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒂 𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒏 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒂𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒔 𝒂 𝒔𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒐, 𝒚𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒊𝒆𝒅𝒐, 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒛𝒐 𝒐 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒂, 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒂, 𝒍𝒂 𝒆𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒅 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒍 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒐 𝒅𝒆 𝒗𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆. 𝑼𝒏 𝒕𝒆́ 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒍 𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒖𝒏 𝒑𝒐𝒄𝒐 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒆𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒅, 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒐… —𝘩𝑖𝑧𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑎, 𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑏𝜄́𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑙𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑜́𝑛 𝑛𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑟 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙, 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑎𝑠𝜄́ 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎. — 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒔𝒊 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒅𝒐 𝒂𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒛𝒂𝒅𝒂, 𝒏𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒚 𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒂 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒓, 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒓𝒂́. —𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑡𝑒́ 𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑎́𝑠, 𝑛𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝜄́𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑜 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑧𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜.

𝐿𝑎 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑏𝜄́𝑎 𝘩𝑒𝑐𝘩𝑜 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑑𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜, 𝑎𝘩𝑜𝑔𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑛 𝑝𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛̃𝑜𝑠 𝑔𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑣𝑎 𝑖𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑜́𝑛 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑜𝑏𝑡𝑒𝑛𝜄́𝑎𝑛. 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝜄́𝑎𝑛 𝑙𝑎 𝑒𝑛𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑑 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑢 𝑡𝑟𝑎́𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙. 𝑇𝑜𝑚𝑒́ 𝑑𝑒𝑙 𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑜 𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝘩𝑒𝑐𝘩𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑖𝑟𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟, 𝑛𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝜄́𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑠𝑒. 𝑆𝑖𝑛 𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑜, 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑡𝑜́ 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑖 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑒 𝑦 𝑟𝑎́𝑝𝑖𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑜́ 𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑎. 　　　　　　　　　 — 𝑷𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒐 𝒂𝒚𝒖𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒂 𝒂 𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂 𝒚 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒍𝒂 𝒆𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒅, 𝒏𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒅𝒓𝒆́ 𝒉𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒐 𝒔𝒊 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂 𝒎𝒖𝒚 𝒂𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒛𝒂𝒅𝒐, 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒆́ 𝒖𝒏 𝒑𝒐𝒄𝒐 𝒔𝒖 𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝜾́𝒂. —𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑢𝑠𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑧𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑟. — ¡𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒔, 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒏̃𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒂.ᐟ 𝑺𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒓𝜾́𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒐, 𝒑𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒆, 𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒆́ 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒐 𝒍𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒂𝒚𝒖𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒐𝒔, ¡𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒔.ᐟ —𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑚𝑢𝑗𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑧𝑜́ 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝘩𝑒𝑐𝘩𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑦 𝑙𝑎 𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑜́ 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒.

𝑈𝑛 𝑝𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛̃𝑜 𝑏𝑢𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑜́ 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑜𝑠, 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑑𝑎𝑟𝜄́𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑢𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑐𝑜 𝑚𝑎́𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑜 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜. 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑑𝑎 𝑦 𝑒𝑙 𝑡𝑒𝑐𝘩𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑜𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑜, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑎𝑢́𝑛 𝑎𝑠𝜄́ 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑢́𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑗𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑙 𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑜́𝑛 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜 𝑠𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑜 𝑦 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠.

𝐹𝑢𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝘩𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑜́𝑛 𝑑𝑜𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑢𝑒𝑔𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝘩𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑎 𝑛𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑡𝑎𝑛 𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑙𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑎𝑧𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑓𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑎. 𝐸𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑑𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑢𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝘩𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑛 𝘩𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑢𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑐𝑜 𝑚𝑎́𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑙. 𝐷𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑙𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠, 𝑜𝑐𝑢𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑙𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑑𝜄́𝑎, 𝑙𝑜 𝑢́𝑛𝑖𝑐𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑟𝜄́𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑛̃𝑒𝑟𝑎, 𝑦 𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑟𝜄́𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑔𝑢𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑢𝑛𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑠. 𝐴𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑎𝑑𝑜 𝑏𝑖𝑒𝑛, 𝑒𝑠𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑢𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑐𝑜 𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝜄́𝑜.

𝐿𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑎 𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑜́ 𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑎, 𝑜𝑏𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑙𝑎 𝑙𝑙𝑢𝑣𝑖𝑎, 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑖 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑠𝑖 𝑙𝑒 𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑜𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑜𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑎𝑓𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑎. 𝐿𝑎 𝑙𝑢𝑧 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑙𝑢𝑛𝑎 𝑐𝘩𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑠𝑢 𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜, 𝘩𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑒́𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑙𝑎 𝑙𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑟 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑠𝑎, 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑐𝑟𝑎, 𝑎𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎; 𝑛𝑜 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑒 𝑒𝑛 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑑𝑒́ 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑓𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑢 𝑣𝑜𝑧 𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑜́𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑐𝑜́ 𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑠.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

Segunda Parte.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°

𝐸𝑙 𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑜 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑜𝑟𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑜́𝑛, 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑑𝜄́𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛 𝑎 𝐶𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎, 𝑛𝑜 𝑐𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑙 𝑜𝑏𝑗𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑜. 𝐹𝑢𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑎́𝑝𝑖𝑑𝑜, 𝑒𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝜄́𝑎𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑠 𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑔𝑎𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑦 𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑠 𝑙𝑜́𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑜𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒. 𝐶𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑣𝑖𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝜄́𝑎, 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑏𝑒́ 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑟 𝑎 𝑆𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎, 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑐𝜄́𝑎 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑑𝑜 𝑒 𝑖𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑐𝑖𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑠𝑜𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑠. 𝑇𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑢𝑛 𝑝𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛̃𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑜 𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑦𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑎. 𝑇𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎 𝑐𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑠𝑒 𝘩𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑛 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒, 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑟 𝑢𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑜́ 𝑑𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑢𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑐𝘩𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑒 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑛. 𝐶𝑖𝑟𝑖 𝑓𝑢𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑖𝑟, 𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎, 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑒́ 𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑎𝑟 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑜. 𝐸𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑠, 𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎́𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑙 𝑏𝑜𝑠𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝘩𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑠, 𝑠𝑖𝑛 𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑜, 𝑒𝑙 𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑟𝑜 𝑎𝑢́𝑛 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑢́𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑜, 𝑐𝑎𝑧𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑠, 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑠, 𝑒𝑡𝑐𝑒́𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑎. 　　　　　　　　　　 𝐿𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑐𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑏𝑎, 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝜄́𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑟 𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑛 𝑙𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑜, 𝑎𝑠𝜄́ 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑛 𝑝𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑛̃𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑠 𝘩𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑠. 𝐿𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑢𝑗𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑗𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑛 𝑑𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑦𝑢𝑑𝑎𝑟 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑑𝑜. 𝐿𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑙𝑠𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑟 𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑜𝑛 𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑢𝑒𝑔𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝘩𝑎𝑏𝜄́𝑎 𝘩𝑒𝑐𝘩𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑟 𝑒𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝜄́𝑜 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑛𝑜𝑐𝘩𝑒. 　　　　　　　　　　 — 𝑮𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒕, ¿𝒂 𝒅𝒐́𝒏𝒅𝒆 𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒔.ᐣ 𝑵𝒐𝒔 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒂́𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐 𝒆𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒐. 𝑵𝒊𝒍𝒇𝒈𝒂𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒏𝒐 𝒅𝒆𝒋𝒂𝒓𝒂́ 𝒅𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒏𝒐𝒔. —𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑢𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑎 𝘩𝑒𝑐𝘩𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑛 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑜𝑐𝑢𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑜. 𝑀𝑖 𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑜́ 𝑒𝑛 𝐶𝑖𝑟𝑖. — 𝑭𝒂𝒍𝒕𝒂𝒏 𝒅𝒐𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒆𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓𝒏𝒐, 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒐 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒐 𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒆𝒏 𝑲𝒂𝒆𝒓 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒔. —𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑡𝑒́ 𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑧𝑎𝑑𝑜, 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑛𝑖𝑛̃𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑜𝑗𝑜𝑠 𝑎𝑐𝑢𝑜𝑠𝑜𝑠. — 𝑳𝒂 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒛𝒂 𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒂𝒅𝒂… — — 𝑬𝒔 𝒖𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒐… — 　　　　　　　　　　 𝐿𝑜𝑠 𝑏𝑟𝑢𝑗𝑜𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑒́𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑙 𝑒𝑗𝑒́𝑟𝑐𝑖𝑡𝑜 𝑛𝑖𝑙𝑓𝑔𝑎𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑜, 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑜 𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑎 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝜄́ 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑏𝑢𝑒𝑛𝑎 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑎. 𝑁𝑜 𝜄́𝑏𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑠 𝑎 𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑟 𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑜𝑠 𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑡𝑟𝑎 𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑜́𝑛 𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑜 𝑚𝑎́𝑠 𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠𝑔𝑜𝑠𝑎, 𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑎 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝘩𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒. 𝐶𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑙 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑉𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑑𝜄́𝑎 𝑜𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑢 𝑐𝑢𝑒𝑟𝑝𝑜 𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑑𝑟𝜄́𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎, 𝑦 𝑙𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑒 𝘩𝑒𝑐𝘩𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝑙𝑎 𝑎𝑦𝑢𝑑𝑎𝑟𝜄́𝑎𝑛 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑑𝑜𝑛 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝜄́𝑎. 𝐸𝑚𝘩𝑦𝑟 𝑛𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑟𝜄́𝑎 𝘩𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑎 𝑑𝑎𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎, 𝑡𝑒𝑛𝜄́𝑎 𝑞𝑢𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑎, 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎 𝑒𝑟𝑎 𝑚𝜄́𝑎, 𝑚𝑖 𝘩𝑖𝑗𝑎 𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑎.