Chapter 第三十四章 布兰（三）
BRAN
新月如钩，就好像锋利的小刀一样。暗淡的太阳起起落落。红色的叶子在风中低语。黑云布满天空，然后变成风暴。紧接着是电闪雷鸣，有着黑手和亮蓝色眼睛的尸鬼们聚集在山边的一个裂口旁，但是无法进入。在山下，残废的男孩坐在一个鱼梁木王座上，倾听着黑暗中的低语，任凭乌鸦在他胳膊上跳来跳去。
The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife. A pale sun rose and set and rose again. Red leaves whispered in the wind. Dark clouds filled the skies and turned to storms. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, and dead men with black hands and bright blue eyes shuffled round a cleft in the hillside but could not enter. Under the hill, the broken boy sat upon a weirwood throne, listening to whispers in the dark as ravens walked up and down his arms.
“你将永远不能再次行走。”三眼乌鸦曾经保证道，“但是你可以飞翔。”有时歌声会从遥远的地方传来。森林之子，老奶妈会如此称呼这些歌者，但是那些唱大地之歌的歌者们都有自己的名字，一些由现在的人类已经不懂的语言组成的名字。可是乌鸦们会说，它们那小小的黑眼睛里充满了秘密，当它们听到歌声时就会飞向他然后用爪子抓他的皮肤。
“You will never walk again,” the three-eyed crow had promised, “but you will fly.” Sometimes the sound of song would drift up from someplace far below. The children of the forest, Old Nan would have called the singers, but those who sing the song of earth was their own name for themselves, in the True Tongue that no human man could speak. The ravens could speak it, though. Their small black eyes were full of secrets, and they would caw at him and peck his skin when they heard the songs.
满月如轮。星辰环绕着穹宇。雨滴落下，然后冻结。树枝不堪承受冰块的重量纷纷断裂。布兰和梅拉开始给那些唱大地之歌的歌者们起名字：灰尘，叶子和天平，黑色匕首，雪锁头和煤。他们真正的名字用人类的语言来说的话都太长了。叶子如是说。她是这些人中唯一一个会说通用语的，所以其他人到底如何看待布兰给他们起的新名字他还没有概念。
The moon was fat and full. Stars wheeled across a black sky. Rain fell and froze, and tree limbs snapped from the weight of the ice. Bran and Meera made up names for those who sang the song of earth: Ash and Leaf and Scales, Black Knife and Snowylocks and Coals. Their true names were too long for human tongues, said Leaf. Only she could speak the Common Tongue, so what the others thought of their new names Bran never learned.
在经历了长城以外刺骨的寒冷之后，这个山洞显得格外的温暖，当寒冷偷偷溜出岩石，歌者们还会点起火来把它们驱散的更远。在这里没有寒风，没有暴雪，没有尖冰，没有尸鬼和异鬼来追杀你，只有梦，幽幽的火光和乌鸦的亲吻。还有黑暗中的低语。
After the bone-grinding cold of the lands beyond the Wall, the caves were blessedly warm, and when the chill crept out of the rock the singers would light fires to drive it off again. Down here there was no wind, no snow, no ice, no dead things reaching out to grab you, only dreams and rushlight and the kisses of the ravens. And the whisperer in darkness.
最后的绿先知，歌者们如此称呼他，但是在布兰的梦中他依然是三眼乌鸦。当梅拉问他真正的名字的时候，他用恐怖的巨大声音咯咯笑着。“在我还年轻的时候曾用过很多名字，但是实际上我还有一个母亲，她给我的名字叫做 布林登。”
The last greenseer, the singers called him, but in Bran’s dreams he was still a three-eyed crow. When Meera Reed had asked him his true name, he made a ghastly sound that might have been a chuckle. “I wore many names when I was quick, but even I once had a mother, and the name she gave me at her breast was Brynden.”
“我有一个叔叔也叫布林登。”布兰说道。“他是我妈妈的舅舅，真的。他被叫做布林登。黑鱼。”
“I have an uncle Brynden,” Bran said. “He’s my mother’s uncle, really. Brynden Blackfish, he’s called.”
“你的叔公的名字可能还是以我的名字命名的。现在的一些人仍然是。但不像以前那么多。人们忘记一些事情，只有树木还记得。”他的声音如此的轻，以至于布兰需要使劲去听才行。
“Your uncle may have been named for me. Some are, still. Not so many as before. Men forget. Only the trees remember.” His voice was so soft that Bran had to strain to hear.
“他的大部分都和树木融为一体了。”被梅拉叫做叶子的歌者解释道。“他的生命已经超越了凡人之躯，可是他徘徊在这里，为了我们，为了你，为了王国里的黎民百姓。他的肉体已经几乎没有力气。他有1001只眼睛，但是有太多的东西需要去看。终有一天你会知道的。”
“Most of him has gone into the tree,” explained the singer Meera called Leaf. “He has lived beyond his mortal span, and yet he lingers. For us, for you, for the realms of men. Only a little strength remains in his flesh. He has a thousand eyes and one, but there is much to watch. One day you will know.”
“我会知道什么？”在他们举着明亮的火把，回到歌者为他们准备的洞穴中时布兰问黎德家的孩子们，“树会记得什么？”
“What will I know?” Bran asked the Reeds afterward, when they came with torches burning brightly in their hand, to carry him back to a small chamber off the big cavern where the singers had made beds for them to sleep. “What do the trees remember?”
“旧神的秘密。”玖健回答道。食物，温暖的火焰和休息帮助他从旅途的折磨中恢复了过来。但是他现在看起来有些难过，温怒，眼中满是厌倦和困扰的神情。“先民们了解真相，在临冬城这一切都被忘记…但是在泽地不是这样，在我们的沼泽和湖泊中我们离大自然更加亲近，我们仍然记得。土地和水，油和岩石，橡树榆树和杨柳，它们在我们之前就生活在这里，在我们死后依然会生活在这里。”
“The secrets of the old gods,” said Jojen Reed. Food and fire and rest had helped restore him after the ordeals of their journey, but he seemed sadder now, sullen, with a weary, haunted look about the eyes. “Truths the First Men knew, forgotten now in Winterfell … but not in the wet wild. We live closer to the green in our bogs and crannogs, and we remember. Earth and water, soil and stone, oaks and elms and willows, they were here before us all and will still remain when we are gone.”
“你也是。”梅拉说。这让布兰很伤感。如果你们走了，我不想留在这里怎么办？他差点问出来。但是他强忍住，继续保持沉默。他已经几乎是一个成年人了，他可不想让梅拉把自己看成一个哭哭啼啼的小孩。“也许你们也会成为绿先知的。”他坚持道。
“So will you,” said Meera. That made Bran sad. What if I don’t want to remain when you are gone? he almost asked, but he swallowed the words unspoken. He was almost a man grown, and he did not want Meera to think he was some weepy babe. “Maybe you could be greenseers too,” he said instead.
“不，布兰。”梅拉忧伤的说。
“No, Bran.” Now Meera sounded sad.
“绿泉水只会给极少数还是肉体凡胎的人喝，让他们去倾听树叶间的低语，以鱼梁木的眼睛去观看，以旧神的眼睛去观看。”玖健补充道，“大多数人都没那么幸运。旧神只给了我绿色之梦的能力。我的任务就是把你带到这里。我的工作已经完成。”玖健补充道，“大多数人都没那么幸运。旧神只给了我绿色之梦的能力。我的任务就是把你带到这里。我的工作已经完成。”
“It is given to a few to drink of that green fountain whilst still in mortal flesh, to hear the whisperings of the leaves and see as the trees see, as the gods see,” said Jojen. “Most are not so blessed. The gods gave me only greendreams. My task was to get you here. My part in this is done.”
月亮在天空中成为了一个黑色的洞。狼群在森林中嚎叫，在漫天的雪花中跟随者死者们嗅探。一群乌鸦杀手从山上飞出，用它们尖细的声音大叫着，黑色的翅膀拍打着白色的世界。红色的太阳起起落落。把皑皑白雪染成了玫瑰色和粉红色。在山下，玖健在沉思，梅拉很烦躁，阿多则左手持火把，右手持剑，徘徊在黑暗的隧道中。或者是布兰控制的阿多？
The moon was a black hole in the sky. Wolves howled in the wood, sniffing through the snowdrifts after dead things. A murder of ravens erupted from the hillside, screaming their sharp cries, black wings beating above a white world. A red sun rose and set and rose again, painting the snows in shades of rose and pink. Under the hill, Jojen brooded, Meera fretted, and Hodor wandered through dark tunnels with a sword in his right hand and a torch in his left. Or was it Bran wandering?
永远没有人知道。
No one must ever know.
山中最大的洞穴总是黑洞洞的，比焦油更漆黑，比乌鸦的羽毛更黑暗。光线就像入侵者，不被需要也不受欢迎，它们进来，然后很快就都离开了；营火和蜡烛只会在这里燃烧一小会，然后就会再次熄灭，它们简短的生命就走到了尽头。
The great cavern that opened on the abyss was as black as pitch, black as tar, blacker than the feathers of a crow. Light entered as a trespasser, unwanted and unwelcome, and soon was gone again; cookfires, candles, and rushes burned for a little while, then guttered out again, their brief lives at an end.
歌者们为布兰做了一个属于他自己的王座，就像布林登大人坐的那个一样。白色的鱼梁木点缀着红色的斑纹，死去的枝条缠绕在活着的树根上。他们把王座放在最大的洞穴里的深渊旁，在那里黑色的空气反射着远处隆隆的流水声。他们在上面放上了柔软的灰色苔藓。在他被放进去之后，他们还会给他盖上温暖的兽皮。
The singers made Bran a throne of his own, like the one Lord Brynden sat, white weirwood flecked with red, dead branches woven through living roots. They placed it in the great cavern by the abyss, where the black air echoed to the sound of running water far below. Of soft grey moss they made his seat. Once he had been lowered into place, they covered him with warm furs.
他坐在那里，聆听着他的老师嘶哑的低语。“永远不要惧怕黑暗，布兰。”领主大人的话语中伴随着树叶和木头的衰弱的瑟瑟声。他轻轻的扭过头。“最强壮的树木会把根扎进大地最黑暗的地方。黑暗将会成为你的衣服，你的护盾，你的母乳。黑暗将会令你更强壮。”
There he sat, listening to the hoarse whispers of his teacher. “Never fear the darkness, Bran.” The lord’s words were accompanied by a faint rustling of wood and leaf, a slight twisting of his head. “The strongest trees are rooted in the dark places of the earth. Darkness will be your cloak, your shield, your mother’s milk. Darkness will make you strong.”
新月如钩，就好像锋利的小刀一样。雪花无声的飘落，把士兵树和哨兵树遮盖成了白色。积雪堵住了山洞的洞口，就像一堵白色的墙一样。夏天只好在它想要出去和兄弟们觅食时打个洞出去。布兰不经常附在夏天身上和它们一起出去，但是有些夜晚他会远远的看着它们。
The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife. Snowflakes drifted down soundlessly to cloak the soldier pines and sentinels in white. The drifts grew so deep that they covered the entrance to the caves, leaving a white wall that Summer had to dig through whenever he went outside to join his pack and hunt. Bran did not oft range with them in those days, but some nights he watched them from above.
飞翔总是比攀爬要好。
Flying was even better than climbing.
上夏天的身已经变得和他没残废的时候穿马裤一样容易了。上一只黑色羽翼的乌鸦就要难很多，但是不像他曾经害怕的那么难，不是和这些乌鸦。“当一个人想骑一只野马时，马会反抗和踢打，尝试去咬握着卡在它嘴间的缰绳的手。” 布林登大人说道。“但是一被骑过的马将会接受其他的骑手。年轻的或者老的，这些鸟儿都是被骑过的马。选一只，然后飞翔。”
Slipping into Summer’s skin had become as easy for him as slipping on a pair of breeches once had been, before his back was broken. Changing his own skin for a raven’s night-black feathers had been harder, but not as hard as he had feared, not with these ravens. “A wild stallion will buck and kick when a man tries to mount him, and try to bite the hand that slips the bit between his teeth,” Lord Brynden said, “but a horse that has known one rider will accept another. Young or old, these birds have all been ridden. Choose one now, and fly.”
他选了一只鸟，然后又选了一只，没有成功，但是第三只乌鸦用精明的黑眼睛看着他，歪着头，打量着他，快的好像他不是一个男孩在看着一只乌鸦，而是一只乌鸦在看着一个男孩。大河之歌突然变得更加响亮，火把比以前更亮了一点，空气中充满了奇怪的味道。当他想说些什么的时候，话语变成了大叫，他的第一次飞翔在撞上一面墙之后结束了，然后他就回到了残破的身体。乌鸦没有受伤。它飞向他，然后落在他的胳膊上，布兰轻抚着它的羽毛，然后又一次进入乌鸦的身体。不久以后他就可以围着洞穴飞翔了，穿梭在洞顶的钟乳石林，甚至飞出深渊，冲向寒冷黑暗的深处。
He chose one bird, and then another, without success, but the third raven looked at him with shrewd black eyes, tilted its head, and gave a quork, and quick as that he was not a boy looking at a raven but a raven looking at a boy. The song of the river suddenly grew louder, the torches burned a little brighter than before, and the air was full of strange smells. When he tried to speak it came out in a scream, and his first flight ended when he crashed into a wall and ended back inside his own broken body. The raven was unhurt. It flew to him and landed on his arm, and Bran stroked its feathers and slipped inside of it again. Before long he was flying around the cavern, weaving through the long stone teeth that hung down from the ceiling, even flapping out over the abyss and swooping down into its cold black depths.
然后他意识到他并不孤独。
Then he realized he was not alone.
“还有其他人在乌鸦的身体里。”当他回到自己的身体后他告诉布林登大人。“某个女孩，我能感觉的到。”
“Someone else was in the raven,” he told Lord Brynden, once he had returned to his own skin. “Some girl. I felt her.”
“一个女人，那些唱大地之歌中的一个。”他的老师说道。“死了很久了，至今她的一部分还活着，就好像你在某个早上肉体死去之后精神还活在夏天中一样。灵魂的阴影，她不会伤害你的。”
“A woman, of those who sing the song of earth,” his teacher said. “Long dead, yet a part of her remains, just as a part of you would remain in Summer if your boy’s flesh were to die upon the morrow. A shadow on the soul. She will not harm you.”
“所有的鸟儿都有歌者在它们身体中吗？”
“Do all the birds have singers in them?”
“是的。”布林登大人肯定道。“是歌者们教授先民用乌鸦传递信息…但是在那些日子里，乌鸦可以说话。树有记忆，但是人类都忘记了。所以现在他们把信息写在羊皮纸上，然后把它绑在不会和其他人分享身体的鸟儿脚上。”
“All,” Lord Brynden said. “It was the singers who taught the First Men to send messages by raven … but in those days, the birds would speak the words. The trees remember, but men forget, and so now they write the messages on parchment and tie them round the feet of birds who have never shared their skin.”
布兰记得老奶妈也曾和他说过一样的故事，但是当他问罗柏这是不是真的时，他的哥哥大笑并且问他是不是也相信古灵精怪。他希望罗柏现在能和他再一起。我会告诉他我能够飞翔，但是他不会相信。所以我要演示给他看。我确信他也可以学习飞翔，他和艾丽娅还有珊莎，甚至小瑞肯和琼恩。雪诺。我们都可以变成乌鸦然后生活在鲁温师傅的鸦笼里。
Old Nan had told him the same story once, Bran remembered, but when he asked Robb if it was true, his brother laughed and asked him if he believed in grumkins too. He wished Robb were with them now. I’d tell him I could fly, but he wouldn’t believe, so I’d have to show him. I bet that he could learn to fly too, him and Arya and Sansa, even baby Rickon and Jon Snow. We could all be ravens and live in Maester Luwin’s rookery.
可是那只是另一个愚蠢的梦罢了。在一些日子里布兰不知道这一切是不是都是一个梦。也许他在外面的大雪中睡着了，梦到自己在一个安全，温暖的地方。你必须醒来，他告诉自己，你必须现在就醒来，否则你将会做梦致死的。有那么一两次他掐自己的胳膊，非常用力。但是这只会让他的胳膊受伤。开始的时候他会通过计数起床和睡觉来记录时间。但是在这里睡觉和起床变成了另一种形式的事情，梦境变成了课程，课程变成了梦境，事情立刻发生或者完全无关紧要。他完成了这些事情还是仅仅梦到他们？
That was just another silly dream, though. Some days Bran wondered if all of this wasn’t just some dream. Maybe he had fallen asleep out in the snows and dreamed himself a safe, warm place. You have to wake, he would tell himself, you have to wake right now, or you’ll go dreaming into death. Once or twice he pinched his arm with his fingers, really hard, but the only thing that did was make his arm hurt. In the beginning he had tried to count the days by making note of when he woke and slept, but down here sleeping and waking had a way of melting into one another. Dreams became lessons, lessons became dreams, things happened all at once or not at all. Had he done that or only dreamed it?
“千分之一的人生来会是一个异形者。” 布林登大人在布兰学会飞翔之后的某一天说道。“千分之一的异形者可以成为绿先知。”
“Only one man in a thousand is born a skinchanger,” Lord Brynden said one day, after Bran had learned to fly, “and only one skinchanger in a thousand can be a greenseer.”
“我认为绿先知就是那些孩子们的巫师，”布兰说。“那些歌者，我的意思是说。”
“I thought the greenseers were the wizards of the children,” Bran said. “The singers, I mean.”
“某种意义上，你称为孩子的那些森林之子有像太阳一样明亮的金色的眼睛。但是在很久以前某个人生来就有血红色的眼睛，或者像心树上的苔藓一样的深率色的眼睛。这些记号是旧神用来标记那些他所选中赐予礼物的人的。被选中的人并不健康，他们活在人世间的日子很短暂。有得必有失嘛。但是一旦他们进入鱼梁木，他们就可以长期驻扎在其中。一千只眼睛，一百种皮肤，智慧像古树的根须一样深邃发达。 这就是绿先知。”
“In a sense. Those you call the children of the forest have eyes as golden as the sun, but once in a great while one is born amongst them with eyes as red as blood, or green as the moss on a tree in the heart of the forest. By these signs do the gods mark those they have chosen to receive the gift. The chosen ones are not robust, and their quick years upon the earth are few, for every song must have its balance. But once inside the wood they linger long indeed. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. Greenseers.”
布兰没有听懂，所以他问黎德家的孩子们。“你喜欢读书吗，布兰？”玖健问他。
Bran did not understand, so he asked the Reeds. “Do you like to read books, Bran?” Jojen asked him.
“某些书。我喜欢战斗的故事，我的姐姐珊莎喜欢爱情故事，但是那些故事都太傻了。”
“Some books. I like the fighting stories. My sister Sansa likes the kissing stories, but those are stupid.”
“阅读者在死前已经以不同的身份活过上千次。”玖健说道。“从不读书的人却只活了一次。森林中的歌者们无书可读。没有墨水，没有羊皮纸，没有可供读写的语言。取而代之的是他们拥有树木，所有的鱼梁木。当他们死后，他们的灵魂进入鱼梁木，进入叶子，树枝和根须，树就有了记忆。他们所有的歌曲和咒语，历史和祈祷，他们所知道的所有有关这个世界的事情。学士会告诉你鱼梁木对于旧神来说是神圣的。歌者们相信鱼梁木就是旧神。当歌者们死去时，他们将变成神的一部分。”
“A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies,” said Jojen. “The man who never reads lives only one. The singers of the forest had no books. No ink, no parchment, no written language. Instead they had the trees, and the weirwoods above all. When they died, they went into the wood, into leaf and limb and root, and the trees remembered. All their songs and spells, their histories and prayers, everything they knew about this world. Maesters will tell you that the weirwoods are sacred to the old gods. The singers believe they are the old gods. When singers die they become part of that godhood.”
布兰的眼睛睁的老大。“他们会杀了我？”
Bran’s eyes widened. “They’re going to kill me?”
“不。”梅拉说。“玖健，你吓到他了。”
“No,” Meera said. “Jojen, you’re scaring him.”
“他不是唯一一个需要害怕的人。”
“He is not the one who needs to be afraid.”
满月如轮。夏天徘徊在寂静的森林中，一个长长的灰色影子在每次捕猎后都变得更加憔悴，猎物越来越少了。山洞口的守卫战依旧进行着，尸鬼们无法进入，雪再次掩埋了它们，但是它们仍然还在那里，隐藏着，冰冻着，等待着。其他尸鬼也来加入它们的行列，它们曾经是男人，女人甚至是小孩。死去的乌鸦站在棕色的树枝上，翅膀上结着冰。一只雪熊掉落在树丛中，巨大但是骨瘦如柴，半个身体都已经露出白骨。夏天和他的族群围上去把它是撕成了碎片。后来他们饱餐了一顿，尽管肉已经腐烂而且冻住了一半，移动起来也和吃它的时候是一个感觉。
The moon was fat and full. Summer prowled through the silent woods, a long grey shadow that grew more gaunt with every hunt, for living game could not be found. The ward upon the cave mouth still held; the dead men could not enter. The snows had buried most of them again, but they were still there, hidden, frozen, waiting. Other dead things came to join them, things that had once been men and women, even children. Dead ravens sat on bare brown branches, wings crusted with ice. A snow bear crashed through the brush, huge and skeletal, half its head sloughed away to reveal the skull beneath. Summer and his pack fell upon it and tore it into pieces. Afterward they gorged, though the meat was rotted and half-frozen, and moved even as they ate it.
在山下他们仍然有食物可吃。上百种蘑菇生长在这里。白色的盲眼鱼遨游在黑色的河水里，但是它们吃起来和曾经吃过的煮熟的有眼睛的鱼一样好吃。他们还有从山洞中的歌者那里分享的奶酪和山羊奶，甚至还有一些在漫长的夏天储备起来的燕麦，大麦和一些水果干。几乎每天他们都会吃血色杂炖，浓稠的汤里有大麦，洋葱和大块的肉。玖健认为那可能是松鼠肉，梅拉却说那是老鼠肉。但是布兰并不在意，那确实是肉，而且很好吃，煮过之后更加鲜嫩可口。
Under the hill they still had food to eat. A hundred kinds of mushrooms grew down here. Blind white fish swam in the black river, but they tasted just as good as fish with eyes once you cooked them up. They had cheese and milk from the goats that shared the caves with the singers, even some oats and barleycorn and dried fruit laid by during the long summer. And almost every day they ate blood stew, thickened with barley and onions and chunks of meat. Jojen thought it might be squirrel meat, and Meera said that it was rat. Bran did not care. It was meat and it was good. The stewing made it tender.
在山洞里没有时间概念，空旷，寂静。他们和六十多个活着的森林之子还有上千个死去的生活在一起，生活在这遥远的山体下方的巨大山洞里。“人们不应该在这种地方闲逛。”叶子警告他们。“你们听到的那条暗河汹涌黑暗，向下一直流向地下暗海。那里有一些小路可以通向更深的地方，无底洞和深深的竖井，被遗忘的道路通向大地的最深处。甚至我的人都没有完全了解所有的道路——我们在这里生活了数千年的时间。”
The caves were timeless, vast, silent. They were home to more than three score living singers and the bones of thousands dead, and extended far below the hollow hill. “Men should not go wandering in this place,” Leaf warned them. “The river you hear is swift and black, and flows down and down to a sunless sea. And there are passages that go even deeper, bottomless pits and sudden shafts, forgotten ways that lead to the very center of the earth. Even my people have not explored them all, and we have lived here for a thousand thousand of your man-years.”
尽管七大王国的人们称呼他们为森林之子，叶子和他的人民可远远不像小孩。聪明的森林矮人可能更接近一些。他们和人类相比没有太大不同，就好像狼和冰原狼。但这并不意味着他们就是小狼崽。他们拥有坚果一样的棕色皮肤，身上的斑纹就像鹿的花纹，大大的耳朵可以听到常人听不到的声音。他们的眼睛也非常大，金色的像猫一样的大眼睛可以看到男孩所看不到的东西。他们的手上有四根手指，长着黑色锋利的爪子。
Though the men of the Seven Kingdoms might call them the children of the forest, Leaf and her people were far from childlike. Little wise men of the forest would have been closer. They were small compared to men, as a wolf is smaller than a direwolf. That does not mean it is a pup. They had nut-brown skin, dappled like a deer’s with paler spots, and large ears that could hear things that no man could hear. Their eyes were big too, great golden cat’s eyes that could see down passages where a boy’s eyes saw only blackness. Their hands had only three fingers and a thumb, with sharp black claws instead of nails.
他们还会用古老的语言歌唱，所以布兰听不懂他们的歌词，但是他们的声音纯洁的就像冬天的空气。“你们剩下的人都在哪？”又一次布兰问叶子。
And they did sing. They sang in True Tongue, so Bran could not understand the words, but their voices were as pure as winter air. “Where are the rest of you?” Bran asked Leaf, once.
“走进了大地深处。”她回答。“进入岩石，树木。在先民们到达之前，这片被你们成为维斯特洛的大陆都是我们的家园，但是尽管在那时我们的人口依然很少。旧神给了我们漫长的生命但是没有给我们庞大的人口，他们担心我们遍布整个世界就好像鹿在没有天敌的情况下充满了整个森林一样。那是我们的黄金时期，在那些日子里我们的族群就好像冉冉升起的太阳一样。现在太阳落下，我们也渐渐消亡了。巨人也是如此，他们灭亡的原因和我们一样，也是我们的兄弟。西部山地的伟人被杀死了，独角兽也灭绝了，猛犸象只剩下几百只仍然在世。冰原狼逃离了我们，但是它们的时间也不多了。在这个人类的世界里，没有他们的生存空间，也没有我们的。”
“Gone down into the earth,” she answered. “Into the stones, into the trees. Before the First Men came all this land that you call Westeros was home to us, yet even in those days we were few. The gods gave us long lives but not great numbers, lest we overrun the world as deer will overrun a wood where there are no wolves to hunt them. That was in the dawn of days, when our sun was rising. Now it sinks, and this is our long dwindling. The giants are almost gone as well, they who were our bane and our brothers. The great lions of the western hills have been slain, the unicorns are all but gone, the mammoths down to a few hundred. The direwolves will outlast us all, but their time will come as well. In the world that men have made, there is no room for them, or us.”
她谈到这些的时候看起来很悲伤，这让布兰也同样感到悲伤。但是过后他会想起，人类不会悲伤，他们会憎恨并且发誓复仇。歌者们会唱悲伤的歌，人类却会战斗和杀戮。
She seemed sad when she said it, and that made Bran sad as well. It was only later that he thought, Men would not be sad. Men would be wroth. Men would hate and swear a bloody vengeance. The singers sing sad songs, where men would fight and kill.
一天梅拉和玖健决定无视叶子的警告去看一看大河。“我也要去。”布兰说道。
One day Meera and Jojen decided to go see the river, despite Leaf’s cautions. “I want to come too,” Bran said.