雙語(yǔ)名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(155)

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(155)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

GINGERLY, I WALKED up the driveway where tufts of weed now grew between the sun-faded bricks. I stood outside the gates of my father’s house, feeling like a stranger. I set my hands on the rusty bars, remembering how I’d run through these same gates thousands of times as a child, for things that mattered not at all now and yet had seemed so important then. I peered in.The driveway extension that led from the gates to the yard, where Hassan and I took turns falling the summer we learned to ride a bike, didn’t look as wide or as long as I remembered it. The asphalt had split in a lightning-streak pattern, and more tangles of weed sprouted through the fissures. Most of the poplar trees had been chopped down--the trees Hassan and I used to climb to shine our mirrors into the neighbors’ homes. The ones still standing were nearly leafless. The Wall of Ailing Corn was still there, though I saw no corn, ailing or otherwise, along that wall now. The paint had begun to peel and sections of it had sloughed off altogether. The lawn had turned the same brown as the haze of dust hovering over the city, dotted by bald patches of dirt where nothing grew at all.
A jeep was parked in the driveway and that looked all wrong:Baba’s black Mustang belonged there. For years, the Mustang’s eight cylinders roared to life every morning, rousing me from sleep. I saw that oil had spilled under the jeep and stained the driveway like a big Rorschach inkblot. Beyond the jeep, an empty wheelbarrow lay on its side. I saw no sign of the rosebushes that Baba and Ali had planted on the left side of the driveway, only dirt that spilled onto the asphalt. And weeds.Farid honked twice behind me. “We should go, Agha. We’ll draw attention,” he called.
“Just give me one more minute,” I said.The house itself was far from the sprawling white mansion I remembered from my childhood. It looked smaller. The roof sagged and the plaster was cracked. The windows to the living room, the foyer, and the upstairs guest bathroom were broken, patched haphazardly with sheets of clear plastic or wooden boards nailed across the frames. The paint, once sparkling white, had faded to ghostly gray and eroded in parts, revealing the layered bricks beneath. The front steps had crumbled. Like so much else in Kabul, my father’s house was the picture of fallen splendor.I found the window to my old bedroom, second floor, third window sOuth of the main steps to the house. I stood on tiptoes, saw nothing behind the window but shadows. Twenty-five years earlier, I had stood behind that same window, thick rain dripping down the panes and my breath fogging up the glass. I had watched Hassan and Ali load their belongings into the trunk of my father’s car.
“Amir agha,” Farid called again.
“I’m coming,” I shot back.

我小心翼翼地走上那條車道，太陽(yáng)曬得磚塊色澤黯淡，磚縫之間雜草叢生。我站在我爸爸房子的大門外面，形同路人。我把手放在銹蝕的鐵柵上，回憶起兒童年代，為了一些現(xiàn)在看來(lái)微不足道、但當(dāng)時(shí)覺(jué)得至關(guān)重要的事情，我曾成千上萬(wàn)次跑過(guò)這扇大門。我望進(jìn)去。車道從大門伸進(jìn)院子，當(dāng)年夏天，我和哈桑就在這里輪流學(xué)騎自行車，先后摔倒，它看起來(lái)沒(méi)有我記憶中那么寬。柏油路裂開(kāi)閃電狀的縫隙，從中長(zhǎng)出更多的野草。多數(shù)白楊樹(shù)已經(jīng)被伐倒——過(guò)去哈桑和我常常爬上那些樹(shù)，用鏡子將光線照進(jìn)鄰居家，那些仍佇立著的樹(shù)如今葉子稀疏。病玉米之墻仍在那兒，然而我沒(méi)有看到玉米，無(wú)論病的還是健康的。油漆已經(jīng)開(kāi)始剝落，有數(shù)處已然整塊掉下。草坪變成棕色，跟彌漫在這座城市上空的塵霧一樣，點(diǎn)綴著幾處裸露的泥土，上面根本沒(méi)有東西生長(zhǎng)。
車道上停了一輛吉普，看上去全然錯(cuò)了：爸爸的黑色野馬屬于那兒。很多年前，野馬的八個(gè)氣缸每天早晨轟轟作響，將我喚醒。我看見(jiàn)吉普下面漏著油，滴在車道上，活像一塊大大的墨漬。吉普車后面，一輛空空的獨(dú)輪車側(cè)傾倒地。車道左邊，我看不到爸爸和阿里所種的薔薇花叢，只有濺上柏油的泥土和雜草。法里德在我背后撳了兩次喇叭?！拔覀?cè)撟吡?，老爺。我們?huì)惹人疑心?！彼暗?。
“再給我一分鐘就好?！蔽艺f(shuō)。房子本身遠(yuǎn)不是我自童年起便熟悉的寬敞白色房子。它看上去變小了，屋頂塌陷，泥灰龜裂?？蛷d、門廊，還有樓頂客房的浴室，這些地方的窗戶統(tǒng)統(tǒng)破裂，被人漫不經(jīng)心地補(bǔ)上透明的塑料片，或者用木板釘滿窗框。曾經(jīng)光鮮的白漆如今黯淡成陰森的灰色，有些已經(jīng)蛻落，露出下面層層磚塊，前面的臺(tái)階已經(jīng)傾頹。和喀布爾其他地方如此相似，我爸爸的房子一派繁華不再的景象。我看到自己那間舊臥房的窗戶，在二樓，房間的主樓梯以南第三個(gè)窗戶。我踮起腳，除了陰影，看不見(jiàn)窗戶后面有任何東西。二十五年前，我曾站在同一扇窗戶后面，大雨敲打窗片，我呼出的氣在玻璃上結(jié)成霧。我目睹哈桑和阿里將他們的行囊放進(jìn)爸爸轎車的后廂。
“阿米爾老爺?！狈ɡ锏掠趾傲?。
“我來(lái)了。”我回他一句。