雙語名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(193)

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(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(193)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

“You’re not dirty at all.”
“--they did things... the bad man and the other two... they did things... did things to me.”
“You’re not dirty, and you’re not full of sin.” I touched his arm again and he drew away. I reached again, gently, and pulled him to me. “I won’t hurt you,” I whispered. “I promise.” He resisted a lit tle. Slackened. He let me draw him to me and rested his head on my chest. His little body convulsed in my arms with each sob.A kinship exists between people who’ve fed from the same breast. Now, as the boy’s pain soaked through my shirt, I saw that a kinship had taken root between us too. What had happened in that room with Assef had irrevocably bound us.I’d been looking for the right time, the right moment, to ask the question that had been buzzing around in my head and keep ing me up at night. I decided the moment was now, right here, right now, with the bright lights of the house of God shining on us.
“Would you like to come live in America with me and my wife?”
He didn’t answer. He sobbed into my shirt and I let him.
FOR A WEEK, neither one of us mentioned what I had asked him, as if the question hadn’t been posed at all. Then one day, Sohrab and I took a taxicab to the Daman-e-Koh Viewpoint--or “the hem of the mountain.” Perched midway up the Margalla Hills, it gives a panoramic view of Islamabad, its rows of clean, tree-lined avenues and white houses. The driver told us we could see the presidential palace from up there. “If it has rained and the air is clear, you can even see past Rawalpindi,” he said. I saw his eyes in his rearview mirror, skipping from Sohrab to me, back and forth, back and forth. I saw my own face too. It wasn’t as swollen as before, but it had taken on a yellow tint from my assortment of fading bruises. We sat on a bench in one of the picnic areas, in the shade of a gum tree. It was a warm day, the sun perched high in a topaz blue sky. On benches nearby, families snacked on samosas and pakoras. Somewhere, a radio played a Hindi song I thought I remembered from an old movie, maybe Pakeeza. Kids, many of them Sohrab’s age, chased soccer balls, giggling, yelling. I thought about the orphanage in Karteh-Seh, thought about the rat that had scurried between my feet in Zaman’s office. My chest tightened with a surge of unexpected anger at the way my countrymen were destroying their own land.
“What?” Sohrab asked. I forced a smile and told him it wasn’t important.We unrolled one of the hotel’s bathroom towels on the picnic table and played panjpar on it. It felt good being there, with my half brother’s son, playing cards, the warmth of the sun patting the back of my neck. The song ended and another one started, one I didn’t recognize.
“Look,” Sohrab said. He was pointing to the sky with his cards. I looked up, saw a hawk circling in the broad seamless sky. “Didn’t know there were hawks in Islamabad,” I said.
“Me neither,” he said, his eyes tracing the bird’s circular flight. “Do they have them where you live?”
“San Francisco? I guess so. I can’t say I’ve seen too many, though.”

“你一點都不臟。”
“……他們對我……那個壞人和其他兩個……他們對我……對我做了某些事情?！?br />“你不臟，你身上沒有罪?！蔽矣秩ヅ鏊氖直?，他抽開。我再伸出手，輕輕地將他拉近?！拔也粫δ悖蔽业吐曊f，“我保證?！彼麙暝艘幌?，全身放松，讓我將他拉近，把頭靠在我胸膛上。他小小的身體在我懷里隨著每聲啜泣抽動。喝著同樣的奶水長大的人之間會有親情。如今，就在這個男孩痛苦的淚水浸濕我的衣裳時，我看到我們身上也有親情開始生長出來。在那間房間里面和阿塞夫發(fā)生的事情讓我們緊緊聯(lián)系在一起，不可分開。我一直在尋找恰當(dāng)?shù)臋C(jī)會、恰當(dāng)?shù)臅r間，問出那個縈繞在我腦里、讓我徹夜無眠的問題。我決定現(xiàn)在就問，就在此地，就在此刻，就在照射著我們的真主房間的藍(lán)色燈光之下。
“你愿意到美國去、跟我和我的妻子一起生活嗎？”
他沒有回答，他的淚水流進(jìn)我的襯衣，我隨他去。
整整一個星期，我們兩個都沒提起我所問過他的，似乎那個問題從來沒被說出來。接著某天，我和索拉博坐出租車，前往“達(dá)曼尼科”——它的意思是“那座山的邊緣”——觀景臺。 它坐落在瑪加拉山半腰，可以看到伊斯蘭堡的全景，樹木夾道的縱橫街路，還有白色房子。司機(jī)告訴我們，從上面能看到總統(tǒng)的宮殿?！叭绻麆傁逻^雨，空氣清新，你們甚至能看到拉瓦爾品第[Rawalpindi，伊斯蘭堡附近古城].”他說。我從他那邊的觀后鏡，看見他掃視著我和索拉博，來回看個不停。我也看到自己的臉，不像過去那樣浮腫，但各處消退中的淤傷在它上面留下黃色的痕跡。我們坐在橡膠樹的陰影里面，野餐區(qū)的長椅上。那天很暖和，太陽高懸在澄藍(lán)的天空中，旁邊的長椅上坐著幾個家庭，在吃土豆餅和炸蔬菜餅。不知何處傳來收音機(jī)播放印度音樂的聲音，我想我在某部舊電影里面聽過，也許是《純潔》 [Pakeeza，1971年公映，巴基斯坦電影]吧。一些孩子追逐著足球，他們多數(shù)跟索拉博差不多年紀(jì)，咯咯發(fā)笑，大聲叫喊。我想起卡德察區(qū)那個恤孤院，想起在察曼的辦公室，那只老鼠從我雙腳之間穿過。我心口發(fā)緊，猛然升起一陣始料不及的怒火，為著我的同胞正在摧毀他們的家園。
“怎么了？”索拉博問。我擠出笑臉，跟他說沒什么。我們把一條從旅館衛(wèi)生間取來的浴巾鋪在野餐桌上，在它上面玩起番吉帕。在那兒跟我同父異母兄弟的兒子一起玩牌，溫暖的陽光照射在我脖子后面，那感覺真好。那首歌結(jié)束了，另外一首響起，我沒聽過。
“看?！彼骼┱f，他用撲克牌指著天空。我抬頭，見到有只蒼鷹在一望無垠的天空中翱翔。“我還不知道伊斯蘭堡有老鷹呢?！?br />“我也不知道?！彼f，眼睛看著那只回旋的鳥兒，“你生活的地方有老鷹嗎？”
“舊金山？我想有吧，不過我沒有見過很多?！?/p>