英譯 Seo Sangh Yeon (原書首四頁網址，6/6/2001, 6/8/2001)
Prologue. She does not fly any more … (1)
Mizur, the highest peak of the gray mountains, was staring the northern sky fiercely, as stubborn as an old man.
Heavy silvery light that Mizur gives off was spreading through the wide sky of the north faintly, as if it was his reminiscence to the Drile Mountains, the home of the every peak.
Silver light of Mizur spreading, as it dyes the northern sky silvery blue entirely, is captured by the looms of the maidens of Isa, the aurora and the oblivion, and then becomes the warp which weaves the
fabric of the northern lights.
Where the silver light starts, at the foot of whitely blue Mizur, were three riders.
The sunlight coming through heavy clouds painfully, shone on them. Only for they passed the most extreme nightmare that can be seen, blessing of the sunlight may pour on them over flowingly.
A man at the head of the company, lifted his frozen hands painfully and shake snows remained on his shoulders off. Snows are usually soft. And so was his handling when started. But soon he found his mistake.
Snows piled up for four days were not less hard than the ice. They had been melted by body heat, soaked, and then frozen again. The man lashed his shoulders more roughly.
Thrusts. Not snowflakes but ice-dusts fly away.
It was so rough action that the sane one might think it as a self-injury, but for he couldn’t feel anything from his numb hands and shoulders, he repeated that monotonous action and gazed the broad fan under his eyes. Accurately speaking, he gazed the old stone monument standing lonely on the hill which is at the left side of the fan, under the gray sky.
Then, a sharp voice from the back was heard.
Gran, who was lashing himself, turned his head slightly. At the back was one man and one woman on the horses, looking at him. The man with so keen eyes that his pupils are almost invisible, had a slight build and a thin face, but sit fairly, squaring his shoulder. But the face of the red-haired woman next to him was so terrible. She was quivering so furiously that shows a human-being can tremble so. Gran saw her pitifully for a while.
“Why do you feign death by the cold, though you wear so much extra clothing?”
Raising her head feebly, she replied:
“Uhhih… Don’t cats get chi, chilly, for their ex, extra clothing…? Uei!”
Gran laughed at her strange sound of a cough, held his head up and saw the gray mountains.
They passed the gray mountains for four days. Besides all their remini-scences, and beautiful and sad episodes of the past, only for their accomplishments for last four days, they deserve much admiration.
Gran turned his head again to the stone monument. It was not so pleasant scene.
Since they had walked through the savagest violence of nature for four days, they would appreciate even a gallow if it is human-made. Even if a dead body is hanged there, with no doubt Gran would feel love to it only for it is made by human-beings. But that stone… gives some feeling that it is over the human-beings.
It looks so great although he was standing at high place. It rather looks like a tower. The stone monument standing straightly to the heaven far off was like a sundial, making the ground its clockface. Gran was amazed by its shade on the ground. How long had the finger of days touched it.
Snowstorms and windstorms from the Mizur had cut the edge of the stone monument harshly, but the 50-cubits high stone monument was standing stubbornly, as it contains the contents wished to be kept throughout days. Standing among gray rocks, looking up at the gray sky with a gray face.
Whirlwinds. A mountain blast blew Gran’s hairs off. Snows from the crack of rocks were fluttering so it was dizzy for a while. The wind whirled as if it wanted to draw Gran’s attention, but he just saw the stone monument without moving at all. The wind soon lost her interest and flew above.
Watching the stone monument, Gran asked in unpleasant voice:
“What does it say?”
Again a sharp voice of the other man answered:
“Hegemonia. di reacrize guef forew-laer.”
Soon the woman said as if she would faint:
“Ve, very good, indeed! I wa, want to ke, keep that in my mind. But, wha, what does it mean, Unchai?”
The sharp-eyed man called Unchai said with blank face:
“Hegemonia. Your fate will-be written again.”
The woman made her eyes round and said, smiling feebly:
“Fa, fate written a, again? Go, good. I ho, hope that it wouldn’t be a fate to be frozen.”
Gran, who was at the head, turn his head again, and saw the stone monument declaring the change of his fate. It seemed to be growing. The figure seemed to be continuously growing while looking at it, and at last scrapping the sky. The fact that it is far away made him relieved. But gran said in cold voice:
“Written again? What would happen if it was originally empty?”
The red-haired woman made her eyes round. Unchai answered quietly:
“Then there would be nothing to be written again.”
Hearing it lastly, the wind couldn’t hear their words any more. Something similar to instinct of human-beings let her blow to the south. The wind started to fly to the south quietly, flapping her giant cloak from the horizon to the horizon.
She became the northwind.
(中文譯註By Brian 睡意深沉(2003年7月18日)︰這是我翻過來的,翻完後有幾個地方要跟大家提醒一下。
「海格摩尼亞，……di reacrize guef forew-laer (傑彭文)。」