雙語名著·追風箏的人 The Kite Runner(63)

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(63)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

Baba spoke in a low voice, the one he took on whenever I embarrassed him in public. “Aren’t you going to thank Assef jan? That was very considerate of him.”
I wished Baba would stop calling him that. How often did he call me “Amir jan”? “Thanks,” I said. Assef’s mother looked at me like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t, and I realized that neither of Assef’s parents had said a word. Before I could embarrass myself and Baba anymore--but mostly to get away from Assef and his grin--I stepped away. “Thanks for coming,” I said.
I squirmed my way through the throng of guests and slipped through the wrought-iron gates. Two houses down from our house, there was a large, barren dirt lot. I’d heard Baba tell Rahim Khan that a judge had bought the land and that an architect was working on the design. For now, the lot was bare, save for dirt, stones, and weeds.
I tore the wrapping paper from Assef’s present and tilted the book cover in the moonlight. It was a biography of Hitler. I threw it amid a tangle of weeds.
I leaned against the neighbor’s wall, slid down to the ground. I just sat in the dark for a while, knees drawn to my chest, looking up at the stars, waiting for the night to be over.
“Shouldn’t you be entertaining your guests?” a familiar voice said. Rahim Khan was walking toward me along the wall.
“They don’t need me for that. Baba’s there, remember?” I said. The ice in Rahim Khan’s drink clinked when he sat next to me. “I didn’t know you drank.”
“Turns out I do,” he said. Elbowed me playfully. “But only on the most important occasions.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”

爸爸放低了聲音，每次我當眾給他難堪，他就會這樣,“你不謝謝親愛的阿塞夫嗎?他太周到了?！?/p>

我希望爸爸別那樣叫他，他叫過我?guī)状巍坝H愛的阿米爾”呢?“謝謝。”我說。阿塞夫的母親看著我，欲言又止。我意識到阿塞夫的雙親還沒說過一句話。為了不再讓我自己和爸爸難堪——但主要是因為不想看到阿塞夫和他的笑臉——我走開了?！爸x謝你來?！蔽艺f。

我從擁擠的賓客中走出來，偷偷溜出那扇鍛鐵大門。我們家往下兩座房子，有一片很大的空地。我聽爸爸告訴拉辛汗，有個法官買下了那片地，建筑師正在設計藍圖。現(xiàn)在，那塊地皮是荒蕪的，只有泥土、石塊和野草。
我扯開阿塞夫的禮物外面那層包裝紙，借著月光端詳書的封面。那是一本希特勒自傳。我將它扔在雜草中。
我倚著鄰居的墻壁，滑坐在地上，只是在黑暗中坐一會兒，膝蓋抵著胸膛，抬眼望著星星，等著夜晚結(jié)束。
“你不用去陪你的客人嗎?”一個熟悉的聲音說，拉辛汗沿著墻壁朝我走來。
“他們不用我陪。爸爸在那邊呢，你忘了?”我說。拉辛汗酒杯中的冰塊叮咚響，他坐在我身邊。“我不知道原來你也喝酒?！?br />“我喝酒，”他說，高興地用手肘撞了我一下，“不過只有在重要的場合才喝。”
我微笑:“謝謝?！?