Inès, the wild rush of phantoms of the artists
The lion’s strength that seizes singular moments
The breath of time on the lids of all beauty
O’ how the entire world’s cities spin with thee!
Inès, the emperor must know the eclipse is coming
I can feel your fire next to me, like a candle’s heat to the palm
Blessed time, quickening with a strange delight
Of electricity’s rampant swirling sunshine
Inès, daughter of the muse, my treasure in the dust
Where radiant suns throw away their comforts and books
There’s no clearer confusion then your passionate moods
That lift me up from my own sombre routine
Inès, trumpet of mythology, designer of the dawns
Look up to the sky, this is all that you could become
Breathless expanse, turning on a fragile opportunity
Where the entire world remembers its thirsty beauty
Inès, tightly cling to me, make lucid the light that
Can penetrate all the moods of lesser men
The world is enchanted by you, and you do not realize it –
Leave the mourning choir for the future’s puissance.
Wuji Seshat 