雙語名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(30)

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(30)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

FOR THE NEXT COUPLE of years, the words "economic development" and "reform" danced on a lot of lips in Kabul. The constitutional monarchy had been abolished, replaced by a republic, led by a president of the republic. For a while, a sense of rejuvenation and purpose swept across the land. People spoke of women's rights and modern technology.
在隨后幾年，喀布爾的人們不時將"經(jīng)濟發(fā)展"、"改革"之類的詞掛在嘴邊。君主立憲制被廢棄了，取而代之的是在共和國總統(tǒng)領(lǐng)導(dǎo)下的共和制。有那么一陣，這個國家煥發(fā)出勃勃生機，也有各種遠大目標(biāo)，人們談?wù)撝鴭D女權(quán)利和現(xiàn)代科技。

And for the most part, even though a new leader lived in "Arg"--the royal palace in Kabul--life went on as before. People went to work Saturday through Thursday and gathered for picnics on Fridays in parks, on the banks of Ghargha Lake, in the gardens of Paghman. Multicolored buses and lorries filled with passengers rolled through the narrow streets of Kabul, led by the constant shouts of the driver assistants who straddled the vehicles'rear bumpers and yelped directions to the driver in their thick Kabuli accent. On "Eid", the three days of celebration after the holy month of Ramadan, Kabulis dressed in their best and newest clothes and visited their families. People hugged and kissed and greeted each other with "Eid Mubarak." Happy Eid. Children opened gifts and played with dyed hard-boiled eggs.
對于大多數(shù)人來說，盡管喀布爾的皇宮換了新主人，生活仍和過去并無二致。人們依舊從周六到周四上班，依舊每逢周五聚集在公園、喀爾卡湖邊或者帕格曼公園野餐。五顏六色的公共汽車和貨車載滿乘客，在喀布爾狹窄的街道上川流不息，司機的助手跨坐在后面的保險杠上，用口音濃重的喀布爾方言大聲叫嚷，替司機指引方向。到了為期三天的開齋節(jié)，齋戒月回歷的第九個月為齋戒月。之后的節(jié)日，喀布爾人穿上他們最新、最好的衣服，相互拜訪。人們擁抱，親吻，互祝"開齋節(jié)快樂"。兒童拆開禮物，玩著染色的水煮蛋。

Early that following winter of 1974, Hassan and I were playing in the yard one day, building a snow fort, when Ali called him in. "Hassan, Agha sahib wants to talk to you!" He was standing by the front door, dressed in white, hands tucked under his armpits, breath puffing from his mouth.
1974年初冬，有一天哈桑和我在院子里嬉鬧，用雪堆一座城堡。這時阿里喚他進屋:"哈桑，老爺想跟你說話!"他身穿白色衣服，站在門口，雙手縮在腋下，嘴里呼出白氣。

Hassan and I exchanged a smile. We'd been waiting for his call all day: It was Hassan's birthday. "What is it, Father, do you know? Will you tell us?" Hassan said. His eyes were gleaming.
哈桑和我相視而笑。我們整天都在等他的傳喚：那天是哈桑的生日。"那是什么，爸爸?你知道嗎?可以告訴我們嗎?"哈桑說，眼里洋溢著快樂。

Ali shrugged. "Agha sahib hasn't discussed it with me."
阿里聳聳肩:"老爺沒有告訴我。"

"Come on, Ali, tell us,"I pressed. "Is it a drawing book? Maybe a new pistol?"
"別這樣嘛，阿里，跟我們說說。"我催他，"一本圖畫冊嗎?還是一把新手槍?"

Like Hassan, Ali was incapable of lying. Every year, he pretended not to know what Baba had bought Hassan or me for our birthdays. And every year, his eyes betrayed him and we coaxed the goods out of him. This time, though, it seemed he was telling the truth.
跟哈桑一樣，阿里也不善說謊。每年我們生日，他都假裝不知道爸爸買了什么禮物。每年他的眼神都出賣他，我們都能從他口里將禮物套出來。不過這次他看來似乎真的不知道。