雙語名著·追風箏的人 The Kite Runner(1)

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·The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(1)的精彩內容吧!

CHAPTER ONE

I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it's wrong what they say about the past, I've learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out. Looking back now, I realize I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty-six years.

One day last summer, my friend Rahim Khan called from Pakistan. He asked me to come see him. Standing in the kitchen with the receiver to my ear, I knew it wasn't just Rahim Khan on the line. It was my past of unatoned sins. After I hung up, I went for a walk along Spreckels Lake on the northern edge of Golden Gate Park. The early-afternoon sun sparkled on the water where dozens of miniature boats sailed, propelled by a crisp breeze. Then I glanced up and saw a pair of kites, red with long blue tails, soaring in the sky. They danced high above the trees on the west end of the park, over the windmills, floating side by side like a pair of eyes looking down on San Francisco, the city I now call Home. And suddenly Hassan's voice whispered in my head: "For you, a thousand times over". Hassan the harelipped kite runner.

I sat on a park bench near a willow tree. I thought about something Rahim Khan said just before he hung up, almost as an after thought. "There is a way to be good again". I looked up at those twin kites. I thought about Hassan. Thought about Baba. Ali. Kabul. I thought of the life I had lived until the winter of 1975 came and changed everything. And made me what I am today.

我成為今天的我，是在1975年某個陰云密布的寒冷冬日，那年我十二歲。我清楚地記得當時自己趴在一堵坍塌的泥墻后面，窺視著那條小巷，旁邊是結冰的小溪。許多年過去了，人們說陳年舊事可以被埋葬，然而我終于明白這是錯的，因為往事會自行爬上來?；厥浊皦m，我意識到在過去二十六年里，自己始終在窺視著那荒蕪的小徑。

今年夏季的某天，朋友拉辛汗從巴基斯坦打來電話，要我回去探望他。我站在廚房里，聽筒貼在耳朵上，我知道電話線連著的，并不只是拉辛汗，還有我過去那些未曾贖還的罪行。掛了電話，我離開家門，到金門公園北邊的斯普瑞柯湖邊散步。晌午的驕陽照在波光粼粼的水面上，數十艘輕舟在和風的吹拂中漂行。我抬起頭，望見兩只紅色的風箏，帶著長長的藍色尾巴，在天空中冉冉升起。它們舞動著，飛越公園西邊的樹林，飛越風車，并排飄浮著，如同一雙眼睛俯視著舊金山，這個我現在當成家園的城市。突然間，哈桑的聲音在我腦中響起：為你，千千萬萬遍。哈桑，那個兔唇的哈桑，那個追風箏的人。

我在公園里柳樹下的長凳坐下，想著拉辛汗在電話中說的那些事情，再三思量。那兒有再次成為好人的路。我抬眼看看那比翼齊飛的風箏。我憶起哈桑。我緬懷爸爸。我想到阿里。我思念喀布爾。我想起曾經的生活，想起1975年那個改變了一切的冬天。那造就了今天的我。