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mounted archers in leather jerkins, a swarming mass of undisciplined freeriders and sellswords, fieldhands on plow horses armed with scythes and their fathers' rusted swords, half-trained boys from the stews of Lannisport... and Tyrion and his mountain clansmen.
仅穿皮甲的弓骑兵、大批毫无纪律的自由骑手和流浪武士，骑着犁马、手持镰刀和祖父辈遗留的生锈刀剑的庄稼汉，兰尼斯港小巷中找来、并未完成训练的男孩……以及提利昂和他的高山氏族。
Crow food, Bronn muttered beside him, giving voice to what Tyrion had left unsaid. He could only nod. Had his lord father taken leave of his senses? No pikes, too few bowmen, a bare handful of knights, the ill-armed and unarmored, commanded by an unthinking brute who led with his rage... how could his father expect this travesty of a battle to hold his left?
“等着喂乌鸦吧。”波隆在他身边低声呢喃，说出了提利昂没说的话，他不由得点头同意。父亲大人难道失却了理智？左翼不仅没有矛兵，弓箭手很少，骑士更是稀罕，尽是些装备低劣、未加防护的人，况且还是由一个行事不经大脑、全凭意气用事的残暴粗汉所率领……如此可笑的一支军队，父亲竟期望他们守住左翼？
He had no time to think about it. The drums were so near that the beat crept under his skin and set his hands to twitching. Bronn drew his longsword, and suddenly the enemy was there before them, boiling over the tops of the hills, advancing with measured tread behind a wall of shields and pikes.
他没有时间仔细思考，鼓声愈来愈近，咚咚咚咚，潜进他的皮肤之下，令他双手抽搐。波隆拔出长剑，刹那间，敌人已出现在前方，从丘陵顶端漫山遍野地冒出来，他们躲在盾牌和长矛构成的壁垒之后，整齐划一地迈步前进。
Gods be damned, look at them all, Tyrion thought, though he knew his father had more men on the field. Their captains led them on armored warhorses, standard-bearers riding alongside with their banners.
诸神该死，瞧瞧他们有多少人，提利昂心想，不过他明白父亲的总兵力比较多。敌军的首领们骑着披甲战马，领导士兵前进，掌旗官举起家族旗帜与之并肩而行。
