She said:

Oh, Newnaihr, You wrote that You lost the link,
That You got lost in the thicket of e-mails...
Oh, a clean river, "Three ways of spilling the ink"
You probably read night and day...

Oh, Newnaihr, You missed the seminar meeting,
Our faces and glances passed...
Oh, a clear river, to welcome You
I'm coming with my thoughts today...

Oh, Newnaihr, the virtual meeting rushed,
In the thicket of e-mails You came to find the way...
Oh, a sweet river, nothing happened after all,
Since we will meet with our thoughts...

Oh, Newnaihr, we will also establish our own seminar,
We will summon the spirit of Wittgenstein...
Oh, a young river, at our own Zoom-inar
We'll talk to one another...

Oh, Newnaihr, and when this pandemic is over,
When the plague is gone and they open the sky...
Oh, a beautiful river, I'll swim, I know it,
To You... and we'll go to the pub...

Oh, Newnaihr, what will it be, I ask,
When You unvirtually see me...
Oh, the Ffidrac River, yes, I see You
And yet it's just the Internet...

Oh, Newnaihr, when the plague is over,
When we go to the castle in Yllihpreac...
Oh, a proud river, ironic, that thinks
Who I am and who I am not...

O Newnaihr, Welsh seagulls will rise,
When we dream on the meadow...
Not me for You: neither You nor "we"!
We will only lie in the green...

Oh, Newnaihr, there will be nothing left,
No troubadour will remember us...
We won't do anything wrong anyway,
It's just a red, ****** garden of love.

The wisdom love.

3/21/21