.Era una frÃÂa noche de Abril.
El cielo se cubrió de sombras,
La lluvia hacÃÂa el amor acariciando Madrid
Y el Verbo se hizo carne y habitó en ChamberÃÂ.
De su profundo sueño despertó
"tumbao" en un banco en medio de la plaza
Envuelto entre sábanas de frÃÂ.
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