雙語名著·追風箏的人 The Kite Runner(47)

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(47)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

I hurried back to the street. I didn't ask Ali about Baba. I didn't want to see him yet. In my head, I had it all planned: I'd make a grand entrance, a hero, prized trophy in my bloodied hands. Heads would turn and eyes would lock. Rostam and Sohrab sizing each other up. A dramatic moment of silence. Then the old warrior would walk to the young one, embrace him, acknowledge his worthiness. Vindication. Salvation. Redemption. And then? Well... happily ever after, of course. What else?
我匆忙走回街上。我沒向阿里問起爸爸，我還不想見到他。在我腦里，一切都計劃好了：我要班師回朝，像一個英雄，用鮮血淋漓的手捧著戰(zhàn)利品。我要萬頭攢動，萬眾矚目，羅斯坦和索拉博彼此打量，此時無聲勝有聲。然后年老的戰(zhàn)士會走向年輕的戰(zhàn)士，抱著他，承認他出類拔萃。證明。獲救。贖罪。然后呢?這么說吧……之后當然是永遠幸福。還會有別的嗎?

The streets of Wazir Akbar Khan were numbered and set at right angles to each other like a grid. It was a new neighborhood then, still developing, with empty lots of land and half-constructed Homes on every street between compounds surrounded by eight-foot walls. I ran up and down every street, looking for Hassan. Everywhere, people were busy folding chairs, packing food and utensils after a long day of partying. Some, still sitting on their rooftops, shouted their congratulations to me.
瓦茲爾·阿克巴·汗區(qū)的街道不多，彼此成直角縱橫交錯，像個棋盤。當時它是個新城區(qū)，仍在蓬勃發(fā)展中，已建成的住宅區(qū)有八英尺高的圍墻，在它們之間，街道上有大量的空地和尚未完工的房子。我跑遍每條街巷，搜尋哈桑的蹤跡。到處都是忙著收起折疊椅的人們，在整天的狂歡之后，收起食物和器皿。有些還坐在他們的屋頂上，高聲向我道賀。

Four streets south of ours, I saw Omar, the son of an engineer who was a friend of Baba's. He was dribbling a soccer ball with his brother on the front lawn of their house. Omar was a pretty good guy. We'd been classmates in fourth grade, and one time he'd given me a fountain pen, the kind you had to load with a cartridge.
在我們家南邊第四條街，我碰到奧馬爾，他父親是工程師，也是爸爸的朋友。他正在自家門前的草坪上，跟他弟弟玩足球。奧馬爾是個不錯的家伙。我們是四年級的同學，有次他送給我一枝水筆，配有抽取式墨水盒那種。

"I heard you won, Amir,?he said. "Congratulations."
"聽說你贏了，阿米爾，"他說，"恭喜恭喜。"

"Thanks. Have you seen Hassan?"
"謝謝，你見到哈桑了嗎?"

"Your Hazara?"
"你的哈扎拉人?"

I nodded.
我點點頭。

Omar headed the ball to his brother. "I hear he's a great kite runner." His brother headed the ball back to him. Omar caught it, tossed it up and down. "Although I've always wondered how he manages. I mean, with those tight little eyes, how does he see anything?"
奧馬爾用頭將足球頂給他弟弟，"我聽說他追風箏可厲害了。"他弟弟將足球頂回來，奧馬爾伸手抓住，拍上拍下。"不過我總是奇怪他是怎么追到的。我的意思是說，他的眼睛那么小，怎么能看到任何東西呢?"

His brother laughed, a short burst, and asked for the ball. Omar ignored him.
他弟弟哈哈大笑，隨后又要回足球，奧馬爾沒理他。

"Have you seen him?"
"你見到他了嗎?"

Omar flicked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing southwest. "I saw him running toward the bazaar awhile ago."
奧馬爾伸出拇指，朝肩膀后指了指西南邊的方向:"剛才我看見他朝市場那邊跑過去。"

"Thanks." I scuttled away.
"謝謝。"我趕忙跑開。