雙語(yǔ)名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(44)

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(chǎng)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(guó)。

成年后的阿米爾始終無(wú)法原諒自己當(dāng)年對(duì)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(diǎn)心力，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)一個(gè)驚天謊言，兒時(shí)的噩夢(mèng)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(lái)令人蕩氣回腸。

下面就跟小編一起來(lái)欣賞雙語(yǔ)名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(44)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

I kept stealing glances at Baba sitting with Rahim Khan on the roof, wondered what he was thinking. Was he cheering for me? Or did a part of him enjoy watching me fail? That was the thing about kite flying: Your mind drifted with the kite.
我偷眼望向爸爸，看見(jiàn)他和拉辛汗坐在一起，尋思他眼下在想些什么。他在為我加油嗎?還是希望我的失敗給他帶來(lái)愉悅?放風(fēng)箏就是這樣的，思緒隨著風(fēng)箏高低起伏。

They were coming down all over the place now, the kites, and I was still flying. I was still flying. My eyes kept wandering over to Baba, bundled up in his wool sweater. Was he surprised I had lasted as long as I had? You don't keep your eyes to the sky, you won't last much longer. I snapped my gaze back to the sky. A red kite was closing in on me--I'd caught it just in time. I tangled a bit with it, ended up besting him when he became impatient and tried to cut me from below.
風(fēng)箏紛紛墜下，而我的仍在翱翔。我仍在放著風(fēng)箏，雙眼不時(shí)瞟向爸爸，緊緊盯著他的羊毛衫。我堅(jiān)持了這么久，他是不是很吃驚?你的眼睛沒(méi)有看著天上，你堅(jiān)持不了多久啦。我將視線收回空中。有只紅色的風(fēng)箏正在飛近--我發(fā)現(xiàn)它的時(shí)間恰到好處。我跟它對(duì)峙了一會(huì)，它失去耐心，試圖從下面割斷我，我將它送上了不歸路。

Up and down the streets, kite runners were returning triumphantly, their captured kites held high. They showed them off to their parents, their friends. But they all knew the best was yet to come. The biggest prize of all was still flying. I sliced a bright yellow kite with a coiled white tail. It cost me another gash on the?index finger and blood trickled down into my palm. I had Hassan hold the string and sucked the blood dry, blotted my finger against my jeans.
街頭巷尾滿是凱旋而回的追風(fēng)箏者，他們高舉追到的戰(zhàn)利品，拿著它們?cè)谟H朋好友面前炫耀。但他們統(tǒng)統(tǒng)知道最好的還沒(méi)出現(xiàn)，最大的獎(jiǎng)項(xiàng)還在飛翔。我割斷了一只帶有白色尾巴的黃風(fēng)箏，代價(jià)是食指又多了一道傷口，血液汩汩流入我的掌心。我讓哈桑拿著線，把血吸干，在牛仔褲上擦擦手指。

Within another hour, the number of surviving kites dwindled from maybe fifty to a dozen. I was one of them. I'd made it to the last dozen. I knew this part of the tournament would take a while, because the guys who had lasted this long were good--they wouldn't easily fall into simple traps like the old lift-and-dive, Hassan's favorite trick.
又過(guò)了一個(gè)鐘頭，天空中幸存的風(fēng)箏，已經(jīng)從約莫五十只劇減到十來(lái)只。我的是其中之一，我殺入前十二名。我知道巡回賽到了這個(gè)階段，會(huì)持續(xù)一段時(shí)間，因?yàn)槟切┘一锛热荒芑钕聛?lái)，技術(shù)實(shí)在非同小可--他們可不會(huì)掉進(jìn)簡(jiǎn)單的陷阱里面，比如哈桑最喜歡用的那招，古老的猛升急降。

By three o'clock that afternoon, tufts of clouds had drifted in and the sun had slipped behind them. Shadows started to lengthen. The spectators on the roofs bundled up in scarves and thick coats. We were down to a half dozen and I was still flying. My legs ached and my neck was stiff. But with each defeated kite,?hope grew in my heart, like snow collecting on a wall, one flake at a time.
到下午三點(diǎn)，陰云密布，太陽(yáng)躲在它們后面，影子開(kāi)始拉長(zhǎng)，屋頂那些看客戴上圍巾，穿上厚厚的外套。只剩下六只風(fēng)箏了，我仍是其中之一。我雙腿發(fā)痛，脖子僵硬。但看到風(fēng)箏一只只掉落，心里的希望一點(diǎn)點(diǎn)增大，就像堆在墻上的雪花那樣，一次一片地累積。

My eyes kept returning to a blue kite that had been wreaking havoc for the last hour.
我的眼光轉(zhuǎn)向一只藍(lán)風(fēng)箏，在過(guò)去那個(gè)鐘頭里面，它大開(kāi)殺戒。

"How many has he cut?" I asked.
"它干掉幾只?"我問(wèn)。

"I counted eleven," Hassan said.
"我數(shù)過(guò)了，十一只。"哈桑說(shuō)。

"Do you know whose it might be?"
"你知道放風(fēng)箏的人是誰(shuí)嗎?"

Hassan clucked his tongue and tipped his chin. That was a trademark Hassan gesture, meant he had no idea. The blue kite sliced a big purple one and swept twice in big loops. Ten minutes later, he'd cut another two, sending hordes of kite runners racing after them.
哈桑啪嗒一下舌頭，仰起下巴。那是哈桑的招牌動(dòng)作，表示他不知道。藍(lán)風(fēng)箏割斷一只紫色的大家伙，轉(zhuǎn)了兩個(gè)大圈。隔了十分鐘，它又干掉兩只，追風(fēng)箏的人蜂擁而上，追逐它們?nèi)チ恕?