Inside the mother’s mouth was a fish, and inside the fish / was a grandmother’s wedding ring. You’d always believed / that the mother was a rock on the neck of a river. / That grandmother had been here is clear, / what is the flow crashing into now? / A stone mother sitting at the neck of a stream. / Who would have imagined a mother as stone, / a lode, a burden, a way, a course. / A stone mother sitting at the neck of a stream, / what wants the child? Only what was promised to her. / The child had been promised a lode, a burden, a way, a course, / something to be followed, a strong drink. / And most of all, her grandmother.