Amihan: Northeast Wind
The cold, frigid wind
Descends slowly to the east
Dissipates at noon
The cold turns to heat
And quite often I forget
This warm, pleasant treat
The cold makes unwell
Those near equatorial line
Feel drunk with chilled wine
My cold heart is dead
Unpainfully doth unbleed
Ends the heat of deeds
The cold makes me doubt
Life is meaningless without
The breath of his mouth.
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