He looked off to the east and west, at the Wall stretching before him, a vast white road with no beginning and no end and a dark abyss on either side.  他朝东西两边远望，看着长城如一条无始无终的白色大道自眼前延伸而出，两侧则是黑暗深渊。

　　West, he decided, for no special reason, and he began to walk that way, following the pathway nearest the north edge, where the gravel looked freshest. 他决定朝西走，也说不出什么原因。于是他靠着北边，顺着看来才刚铺过碎石的通道，提步往那个方向走去。

　　His bare cheeks were ruddy with the cold, and his legs complained more loudly with every step, but Tyrion ignored them.  暴露在外的双颊被冻得通红，双脚也早就在抗议，但他不加理会。

　　The wind swirled around him, gravel crunched beneath his boots, while ahead the white ribbon followed the lines of the hills, rising higher and higher,  狂风在他耳际怒吼，碎石在他脚下嘎吱作响，长城在他前方沿丘陵蜿蜒，有如白色蝴蝶结般渐渐升高，

　　until it was lost beyond the western horizon. He passed a massive catapult, as tall as a city wall, its base sunk deep into the Wall.  最后消失于西边的地平线。他走过一台高如城墙的庞大投石机，它的底座深深地陷入长城，

　　The throwing arm had been taken off for repairs and then forgotten; it lay there like a broken toy, half-embedded in the ice. 投掷臂被拆下来维修，却忘了装回去，于是便像个坏掉的玩具般躺在那儿，半掩盖在冰层里。

　　On the far side of the catapult, a muffled voice called out a challenge. Who goes there? Halt! 从投石机的彼端传来一声不太清晰的盘问：是谁？不许动！

　　Tyrion stopped. If I halt too long I’ll freeze in place, Jon, he said as a shaggy pale shape slid toward him silently and sniffed at his furs. Hello, Ghost. 提利昂停下来。琼恩，我要是不动，非冻死在这里不可。他边说边看到一个毛茸茸的白影悄悄地朝他跑来，凑着他的毛皮衣物嗅个不休。哈啰，白灵。

　　Jon Snow moved closer. He looked bigger and heavier in his layers of fur and leather, the hood of his cloak pulled down over his face.  琼恩·雪诺朝他走来。他穿了一层又一层的毛皮和皮革，模样更为魁梧高壮，斗篷的兜帽拉下来遮住了脸。