雙語(yǔ)名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(144)

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。

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Jadeh Maywand. Just north of us was the bone-dry Kabul River. On the hills to the south stood the broken old city wall. Just east of it was the Bala Hissar Fort--the ancient citadel that the warlord Dostum had occupied in 1992--on the Shirdarwaza mountain range, the same mountains from which Mujahedin forces had showered Kabul with rockets between 1992 and 1996, inflicting much of the damage I was witnessing now. The Shirdarwaza range stretched all the way west. It was from those mountains that I remember the firing of the Topeh chasht, the “noon cannon.” It went off every day to announce noontime, and also to signal the end of daylight fasting during the month of Ramadan. You’d hear the roar of that cannon all through the city in those days.
“I used to come here to Jadeh Maywand when I was a kid,” I mumbled. “There used to be shops here and hotels. Neon lights and restaurants. I used to buy kites from an old man named Saifo. He ran a little kite shop by the old police headquarters.”
“The police headquarters is still there,” Farid said. “No shortage of police in this city But you won’t find kites or kite shops on Jadeh Maywand or anywhere else in Kabul. Those days are over.”
Jadeh Maywand had turned into a giant sand castle. The buildings that hadn’t entirely collapsed barely stood, with caved in roofs and walls pierced with rockets shells. Entire blocks had been obliterated to rubble. I saw a bullet-pocked sign half buried at an angle in a heap of debris. It read DRINK COCA CO--. I saw children playing in the ruins of a windowless building amid jagged stumps of brick and stone. Bicycle riders and mule-drawn carts swerved around kids, stray dogs, and piles of debris. A haze of dust hovered over the city and, across the river, a single plume of smoke rose to the sky.
“Where are the trees?” I said.
“People cut them down for firewood in the winter,” Farid said. “The Shorawi cut a lot of them down too.”
“Why?”

一度占領(lǐng)這座古代城堡——坐落在雪達(dá)瓦扎山脈上。 1992年到 1996年間，人民圣戰(zhàn)者組織的火箭如雨點(diǎn)般從那座山脈射出來(lái)，落進(jìn)喀布爾城里，造成如今擺在我眼前的浩劫。雪達(dá)瓦扎山脈朝西逶迤而去。我記得，“午炮”也是從這些山巒中發(fā)出來(lái)的，它每天響起，宣告中午來(lái)臨；在齋月期間，它也是一聲信號(hào)，意味著白天的禁食可以結(jié)束了。那些天，整座城市都能聽(tīng)見(jiàn)午炮的轟鳴。
“我小時(shí)候常常路過(guò)這兒，前往雅德梅灣?！蔽亦f(shuō)，“過(guò)去這兒商店賓館林立，遍地食肆和霓虹燈。我經(jīng)常向一個(gè)叫做塞弗的老人買(mǎi)風(fēng)箏。他在舊警察局旁邊開(kāi)了間小小的風(fēng)箏鋪。”
“警察局還在那兒?！狈ɡ锏抡f(shuō)，“這座城市不缺警察。但你在雅德梅灣，或者喀布爾任何地方，再也找不到風(fēng)箏或者風(fēng)箏鋪了。那樣的日子已經(jīng)結(jié)束?！?br />雅德梅灣業(yè)已變成一座巨大的廢墟。那些尚未被徹底摧毀的屋宇赤條條豎在那兒，屋頂破了大洞，墻壁嵌滿火箭的彈片。整個(gè)街區(qū)已經(jīng)化為瓦礫。我看見(jiàn)一個(gè)帶著彈孔的招牌斜斜埋在一堆殘骸中，上面寫(xiě)著“請(qǐng)喝可口可……”。我看見(jiàn)在那些犬牙交錯(cuò)的磚石廢墟中，有座沒(méi)有窗戶的破房子，兒童在里面玩耍。自行車(chē)和騾車(chē)在孩子、流浪狗和一堆堆廢物中穿梭。 城市上方是灰蒙蒙的塵霧，河那邊，一道青煙裊裊升上天空。
“那些樹(shù)呢？”我說(shuō)。
“冬天的時(shí)候被人們砍成柴火了?！狈ɡ锏抡f(shuō)，“俄國(guó)佬也砍了不少?！?br />“為什么？”