雙語名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(220)

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(diǎn)心力，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)一個(gè)驚天謊言，兒時(shí)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(220)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s give him a sabagh, teach him a lesson, nay?” I glanced over at him. The glassy, vacant look in his eyes was gone. His gaze flitted between our kite and the green one. His face was a little flushed, his eyes suddenly alert. Awake. Alive. I wondered when I had forgotten that, despite everything, he was still just a child.
The green kite was making its move. “Let’s wait,” I said. “We’ll let him get a little closer.” It dipped twice and crept toward us. “Come on. Come to me,” I said.
The green kite drew closer yet, now rising a little above us, unaware of the trap I’d set for it. “Watch, Sohrab. I’m going to show you one of your father’s favorite tricks, the old lift-and-dive.”
Next to me, Sohrab was breathing rapidly through his nose. The spool rolled in his palms, the tendons in his scarred wrists like rubab strings. Then I blinked and, for just a moment, the hands holding the spool were the chipped-nailed, calloused hands of a harelipped boy. I heard a crow cawing somewhere and I looked up. The park shimmered with snow so fresh, so dazzling white, it burned my eyes. It sprinkled soundlessly from the branches of white-clad trees. I smelled turnip qurina now. Dried mulberries. Sour oranges. Sawdust and walnuts. The muffled quiet, snow-quiet, was deafening. Then far away, across the stillness, a voice calling us home, the voice of a man who dragged his right leg.
The green kite hovered directly above us now. “He’s going for it. Anytime now,” I said, my eyes flicking from Sohrab to our kite.
The green kite hesitated. Held position. Then shot down. “Here he comes!” I said.
I did it perfectly. After all these years. The old lift-and-dive trap. I loosened my grip and tugged on the string, dipping and dodging the green kite. A series of quick sidearm jerks and our kite shot up counterclockwise, in a half circle. Suddenly I was on top. The green kite was scrambling now, panic-stricken. But it was too late. I’d already slipped him Hassan’s trick. I pulled hard and our kite plummeted. I could almost feel our string sawing his. Almost heard the snap.
Then, just like that, the green kite was spinning and wheeling out of control.Behind us, people cheered. Whistles and applause broke out. I was panting. The last time I had felt a rush like this was that day in the winter of 1975, just after I had cut the last kite, when I spotted Baba on our rooftop, clapping, beaming.
I looked down at Sohrab. One corner of his mouth had curled up just so.

“好的。”我說，“讓我們給他一點(diǎn)顏色瞧瞧，教訓(xùn)他一下，好吧？”我俯視著他，他眼里那種模糊空洞的神色已經(jīng)不見了。他的眼光在我們的風(fēng)箏和那只綠色風(fēng)箏之間來回轉(zhuǎn)動，臉色有一點(diǎn)點(diǎn)發(fā)紅，眼睛驟然機(jī)警起來。蘇醒了。復(fù)活了。我在尋思，我什么時(shí)候忘了？不管怎么說，他仍只是一個(gè)孩子。
綠色風(fēng)箏采取行動了。 “我們等等，”我說，“我們會讓它再靠近一些。”它下探了兩次，慢慢朝我們挪過來。 “來啊，過來啊。”我說。
綠風(fēng)箏已經(jīng)更近了，在我們稍高的地方拉升，對我為它布下的陷阱毫不知情?！翱?，索拉博，我會讓你看看你爸爸最喜歡的招數(shù)，那招古老的猛升急降?！?br />索拉博挨著我，用鼻子急促地呼吸著。卷軸在他手中滾動，他傷痕累累的手腕上的筋腱很像雷巴布琴的琴弦。我眨眨眼，瞬間，拿著卷軸的是一個(gè)兔唇男孩指甲破裂、長滿老繭的手。 我聽見某個(gè)地方傳來牛的哞哞叫，而我抬頭，公園閃閃發(fā)光，鋪滿的雪多么新鮮，白得多么耀眼，令我目眩神迷。雪花無聲地灑落在白色的枝頭上，現(xiàn)在我聞到了蕪青拌飯的香味，還有桑椹干、酸橙子、鋸屑和胡桃的氣味。一陣雪花飛舞的寂靜蓋住了所有聲音。然后，遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)地，有個(gè)聲音穿透這片死寂，呼喊我們回家，是那個(gè)拖著右腿的男人的聲音。
綠風(fēng)箏現(xiàn)在就在我們正上方翱翔?！拔覀儸F(xiàn)在隨時(shí)可以把它干掉了。”我說，眼睛在索拉博和我們的風(fēng)箏間飛快地轉(zhuǎn)著。
綠風(fēng)箏搖搖晃晃，定住位，接著向下沖。 “他玩完了！”我說。
這么多年之后，我無懈可擊地再次使出那招古老的猛升急降。我松開手，猛拉著線，往下避開那只綠風(fēng)箏。我側(cè)過手臂，一陣急遽的抖動之后，我們的風(fēng)箏逆時(shí)針劃出一個(gè)半圓。我突然占據(jù)了上面的位置。綠色風(fēng)箏現(xiàn)在驚惶失措，慌亂地向上攀升。但它已經(jīng)太遲了，我已經(jīng)使出哈桑的絕技。我猛拉著線，我們的風(fēng)箏直墜而下。我?guī)缀跄苈犚娢覀兊木€割斷他的線，幾乎能聽見那一聲斷裂。
然后，就那樣，綠風(fēng)箏失去控制，搖搖晃晃地摔下來。我們身后的人們歡呼叫好，爆發(fā)出陣陣口哨聲和掌聲。我喘著氣。上一次感到這么激動，是在1975年那個(gè)冬日，就在我剛剛割斷最后一只風(fēng)箏之后，當(dāng)時(shí)我看見爸爸在我們的屋頂上，鼓著掌，容光煥發(fā)。
我俯視索拉博，他嘴角的一邊微微翹起。