雙語名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(43)

12歲的阿富汗富家少爺阿米爾與仆人哈桑情同手足。然而，在一場風(fēng)箏比賽后，發(fā)生了一件悲慘不堪的事，阿米爾為自己的懦弱感到自責(zé)和痛苦，逼走了哈桑，不久，自己也跟隨父親逃往美國。

成年后的阿米爾始終無法原諒自己當(dāng)年對哈桑的背叛。為了贖罪，阿米爾再度踏上暌違二十多年的故鄉(xiāng)，希望能為不幸的好友盡最后一點心力，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)一個驚天謊言，兒時的噩夢再度重演，阿米爾該如何抉擇?

故事如此殘忍而又美麗，作者以溫暖細(xì)膩的筆法勾勒人性的本質(zhì)與救贖，讀來令人蕩氣回腸。

下面就跟小編一起來欣賞雙語名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(43)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

"No monster," I said, feeling a little better, to my own surprise.
"沒有鬼怪。"我低聲說，出乎意料的是我竟然覺得好些了。

He smiled. "No monster."
他微笑:"沒有鬼怪。"

"Are you sure?"
"你確定?"

He closed his eyes. Nodded.
他閉上雙眼，點點頭。

I looked to the kids scampering down the street, flinging snowballs. "It is a beautiful day, isn't it?"
我看著那些在街道躥上躥下打雪仗的孩子，"今天是個好日子，對吧?"

"Let's fly," he said.
"我們來放風(fēng)箏吧。"他說。

It occurred to me then that maybe Hassan had made up his dream. Was that possible? I decided it wasn't. Hassan wasn't that smart. I wasn't that smart. But made up or not, the silly dream had lifted some of my anxiety. Maybe I should take off my shirt, take a swim in the lake. Why not?
當(dāng)時我覺得哈桑那個夢可能是他編出來的。那可能嗎?我確定不是，哈桑沒那么聰明，我也沒那么聰明。但不管是否是編造的，那個愚蠢的夢緩解了我的焦慮。興許我該除去衣服，到湖里去游一游。為什么不呢?

"Let's do it,"I said.
"我們來放。"我說。

Hassan's face brightened. "Good,"he said. He lifted our kite, red with yellow borders, and, just beneath where the central and cross spars met, marked with Saifo's unmistakable signature. He licked his finger and held it up, tested the wind, then ran in its direction-on those rare occasions we flew kites in the summer, he'd kick up dust to see which way the wind blew it. The spool rolled in my hands until Hassan stopped, about fifty feet away. He held the kite high over his head, like an Olympic athlete showing his gold medal. I jerked the string twice, our usual signal, and Hassan tossed the kite.
哈桑神色一振:"好啊!"他舉起我們的風(fēng)箏：紅色的風(fēng)箏，鑲著黃邊，在豎軸和橫軸交叉的地方，有塞弗的親筆簽名。他舔舔手指，把它舉起，測試風(fēng)向，然后順風(fēng)跑去。我們偶爾也在夏天放風(fēng)箏，他會踢起灰塵，看風(fēng)吹向什么方位。我手里的卷軸轉(zhuǎn)動著，直到哈桑停下來，大約在五十英尺開外。他將風(fēng)箏高舉過頂，仿佛一個奧運會的田徑運動員高舉獲得的金牌。按照我們往常的信號，我猛拉兩次線，哈桑放開了風(fēng)箏。

Caught between Baba and the mullahs at school, I still hadn't made up my mind about God. But when a Koran ayat I had learned in my diniyat class rose to my lips, I muttered it. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and pulled on the string. Within a minute, my kite was rocketing to the sky. It made a sound like a paper bird flapping its wings. Hassan clapped his hands, whistled, and ran back to me. I handed him the spool, holding on to the string, and he spun it quickly to roll the loose string back on.
雖說爸爸和學(xué)校的老師誨我不倦，我終究無法對真主死心塌地?？墒钱?dāng)時，從教義答問課程學(xué)到的某段《可蘭經(jīng)》涌上嘴邊，我低聲念誦，然后深深吸氣，呼氣，跟著拉線跑開。不消一分鐘，我的風(fēng)箏扶搖直上，發(fā)出宛如鳥兒撲打翅膀的聲音。哈桑拍掌稱好，跑在我身后。我把卷軸交給他，雙手拉緊風(fēng)箏線，他敏捷地將那松弛的線卷起來。

At least two dozen kites already hung in the sky, like paper sharks roaming for prey. Within an hour, the number doubled, and red, blue, and yellow kites glided and spun in the sky. A cold breeze wafted through my hair. The wind was perfect for kite flying, blowing just hard enough to give some lift, make the sweeps easier. Next to me, Hassan held the spool, his hands already bloodied by the string.
空中已經(jīng)掛著至少二十來只風(fēng)箏，如同紙制的鯊魚，巡游搜獵食物。不到一個鐘頭，這個數(shù)字翻了一番，紅色的、藍(lán)色的、黃色的風(fēng)箏在蒼穹來回飛舞，熠熠生輝。寒冷的微風(fēng)吹過我的頭發(fā)。這風(fēng)正適宜放風(fēng)箏，風(fēng)速不大，恰好能讓風(fēng)箏飄浮起來，也便于操控。哈桑在我身旁，幫忙拿著卷軸，手掌已被線割得鮮血淋漓。

Soon, the cutting started and the first of the defeated kites whirled out of control. They fell from the sky like shooting stars with brilliant, rippling tails, showering the neighborhoods below with prizes for the kite runners. I could hear the runners now, hollering as they ran the streets. Someone shouted reports of a fight breaking out two streets down.
頃刻間，割線開始了，第一批被挫敗的風(fēng)箏斷了線，回旋著跌落下來。它們像流星那樣劃過蒼天，拖著閃亮的尾巴，散落在臨近的街區(qū)，給追風(fēng)箏的人帶來獎賞。我能聽得見那些追風(fēng)箏的人，高聲叫嚷，奔過大街小巷。有人扯開喉嚨，報告說有兩條街上爆發(fā)沖突了。