雙語名著·追風箏的人 The Kite Runner(49)

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·追風箏的人 The Kite Runner(49)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

For the next few minutes, I scoured the bazaar in vain. Maybe the old merchant's eyes had betrayed him. Except he'd seen the blue kite. The thought of getting my hands on that kite... I poked my head behind every lane, every shop. No sign of Hassan.
有那么幾分鐘，我徒勞無功地在市場中搜尋著。興許那個老人看走了眼，可是他看到了藍色的風箏。想到親手拿著那只風箏……我探頭尋找每條通道，每家店鋪。沒有哈桑的蹤跡。

I had begun to worry that darkness would fall before I found Hassan when I heard voices from up ahead. I'd reached a secluded, muddy road. It ran perpendicular to the end of the main thoroughfare bisecting the bazaar. I turned onto the rutted track and followed the voices. My boot squished in mud with every step and my breath puffed out in white clouds before me. The narrow path ran parallel on one side to a snow-filled ravine through which a stream may have tumbled in the spring. To my other side stood rows of snow-burdened cypress trees peppered among flat-topped clay houses--no more than mud shacks in most cases--separated by narrow alleys.
我正在擔心天就快黑了，聽到前面?zhèn)鱽硪魂嚶曧?。我來到一條僻靜、泥濘的小巷。市場被一條大路分成兩半，它就在那條大路的末端，成直角伸展開去。小巷車轍宛然，我走在上面，隨著聲音而去。靴子在泥濘中吱嘎作響，我呼出的氣變成白霧。這狹窄的巷道跟一條凍結(jié)小溪平行，要是在春天，會有溪水潺潺流淌。小巷的另外一邊是成排的柏樹，枝頭堆滿積雪，散落在一些窄巷交錯的平頂黏土房屋之間--那些房子比土屋茅舍好不了多少。

I heard the voices again, louder this time, coming from one of the alleys. I crept close to the mouth of the alley. Held my breath. Peeked around the corner.
我又聽見那聲音，這次更響了，從某條小巷傳出來。我悄悄走進巷口，屏住呼吸，在拐角處窺探。

Hassan was standing at the blind end of the alley in a defiant stance: fists curled, legs slightly apart. Behind him, sitting on piles of scrap and rubble, was the blue kite. My key to Baba's heart.
那小巷是死胡同，哈桑站在末端，擺出一副防御的姿勢：拳頭緊握，雙腿微微張開。在他身后，有一堆破布瓦礫，擺著那只藍風箏。那是我打開爸爸心門的鑰匙。

Blocking Hassan's way out of the alley were three boys, the same three from that day on the hill, the day after Daoud Khan's coup, when Hassan had saved us with his slingshot. Wali was standing on one side, Kamal on the other, and in the middle, Assef. I felt my body clench up, and something cold rippled up my spine. Assef seemed relaxed, confident. He was twirling his brass knuckles. The other two guys shifted nervously on their feet, looking from Assef to Hassan, like they'd cornered some kind of wild animal that only Assef could tame.
擋住哈桑去路的是三個男孩，就是達烏德汗發(fā)動政變隔日，我們在山腳遇到、隨后又被哈桑用彈弓打發(fā)走的那三個。瓦里站在一邊，卡莫在另外一邊，阿塞夫站在中間。我感到自己身體收縮，一陣寒意從脊背升起。阿塞夫神態(tài)放松而自信，他正在戴上他的不銹鋼拳套。其他兩個家伙緊張地挪動著雙腳，看看阿塞夫，又看看哈桑，仿佛他們困住某種野獸，只有阿塞夫才能馴服。

"Where is your slingshot, Hazara?" Assef said, turning the brass knuckles in his hand. "What was it you said? ‘They'll have to call you One-Eyed Assef.?That's right. One-Eyed Assef. That was clever. Really clever. Then again, it's easy to be clever when you're holding a loaded weapon."
"你的彈弓呢，哈扎拉人?"阿塞夫說，玩弄著手上的拳套,"你說過什么來著?'他們會管你叫獨眼龍阿塞夫。'很好，獨眼龍阿塞夫。太聰明了，真的很聰明。再說一次，當人們手里握著上了膛的武器，想不變得聰明也難。"

I realized I still hadn't breathed out. I exhaled, slowly, quietly. I felt paralyzed. I watched them close in on the boy I'd grown up with, the boy whose harelipped face had been my first memory.
我覺得自己無法呼吸。我慢慢地、安靜地呼著氣，全身麻木。我看見他們逼近那個跟我共同長大的男孩，那個我懂事起就記得他的兔唇的男孩。

"But today is your lucky day, Hazara," Assef said. He had his back to me, but I would have bet he was grinning. "I'm in a mood to forgive. What do you say to that, boys?"
"但你今天很幸運，哈扎拉人。"阿塞夫說。他背朝我，但我敢打賭他臉上一定掛著邪惡的笑容。"我心情很好，可以原諒你。你們說呢，小子們?"

"That's generous," Kamal blurted, "Especially after the rude manners he showed us last time." He was trying to sound like Assef, except there was a tremor in his voice. Then I understand: He wasn't afraid of Hassan, not really. He was afraid because he had no idea what Assef had in mind.
"太寬宏大量了，"卡莫喊道，"特別是考慮到他上次對我們那樣粗魯無禮。"他想學(xué)著阿塞夫的語調(diào)，可是聲音里面有些顫抖。于是我明白了：他害怕的不是哈桑，絕對不是。他害怕，是因為不知道阿塞夫在打什么主意。