雙語(yǔ)名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(133)

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。

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ON THE RICKSHAW RIDE back to Rahim Khan’s apartment, I remembered Baba saying that my problem was that someone had always done my fighting for me. I was thirty-eight flow. My hair was receding and streaked with gray, and lately I’d traced little crow’s-feet etched around the corners of my eyes. I was older now, but maybe not yet too old to start doing my own fighting. Baba had lied about a lot of things as it turned out but he hadn’t lied about that.
I looked at the round face in the Polaroid again, the way the sun fell on it. My brother’s face. Hassan had loved me once, loved me in a way that no one ever had or ever would again. He was gone now, but a little part of him lived on. It was in Kabul.Waiting.I FOUND RAHIM KHAN praying _namaz_ in a corner of the room. He was just a dark silhouette bowing eastward against a bloodred sky. I waited for him to finish.
Then I told him I was going to Kabul. Told him to call the Caldwells in the morning.
“I’ll pray for you, Amir jan,” he said.

我雇了黃包車，在回拉辛汗寓所的路上，我想起爸爸說(shuō)過(guò)，我的問(wèn)題是，總有人為我挺身而出。如今我三十八歲了，我的頭發(fā)日漸稀疏，兩鬢開始灰白，最近我發(fā)現(xiàn)魚尾紋開始侵蝕我的眼角。現(xiàn)在我老了，但也許還沒(méi)有老到不能為自己挺身而出的地步。盡管最終發(fā)現(xiàn)爸爸說(shuō)過(guò)很多謊言，但這句話倒是實(shí)情。
我再次看著寶麗萊照片上的圓臉，看著陽(yáng)光落在它上面。我弟弟的臉。哈桑曾經(jīng)深愛過(guò)我，以前無(wú)人那樣待我，日后也永遠(yuǎn)不會(huì)有。他已經(jīng)走了，但他的一部分還在。在喀布爾。等待。我發(fā)現(xiàn)拉辛汗在屋角做禱告。我只見到在血紅色的天空下，一個(gè)黑色的身影對(duì)著東方朝拜。我等待他結(jié)束。
然后我告訴他要去喀布爾，告訴他明天早上給卡爾德威打電話。
“我會(huì)為你禱告，親愛的阿米爾。”他說(shuō)。