雙語(yǔ)名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(141)

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，讀來令人蕩氣回腸。

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“You COULD HAVE TOLD ME,” Farid saidlater. The two ofus were lying next to each other on the straw mats Wahid’s wife had spread for us.“Told you what?”“Why you’ve come to Afghanistan.” His voice had lost the rough edge I’d heard in it since the moment I had met him.
“You didn’t ask,” I said.“You should have told me.”“You didn’t ask.”He rolled to face me. Curled his arm under his head. “Maybe I will help you find this boy.”“Thank you, Farid,” I said.“It was wrong of me to assume.”
I sighed. “Don’t worry. You were more right than you know.”HIS HANDS ARE TIED BEHIND HIM with roughly woven rope cutting through the flesh of his wrists. He is blindfolded with black cloth. He is kneeling on the street, on the edge of a gutter filled with still water, his head drooping between his shoulders. His knees roll on the hard ground and bleed through his pants as he rocks in prayer. It is late afternoon and his long shadow sways back and forth on the gravel. He is muttering something under his breath. I step closer. A thousand times over, he mutters. For you a thousand times over. Back and forth he rocks. He lifts his face. I see a faint scar above his upper lip.We are not alone.I see the barrel first. Then the man standing behind him. He is tall, dressed in a herringbone vest and a black turban. He looks down at the blindfolded man before him with eyes that show nothing but a vast, cavernous emptiness. He takes a step back and raises the barrel. Places it on the back of the kneeling man’s head.For a moment, fading sunlight catches in the metal and twinkles.
The rifle roars with a deafening crack.I follow the barrel on its upward arc. I see the face behind the plume of smoke swirling from the muzzle. I am the man in the herringbone vest.I woke up with a scream trapped in my throat.

“你本來可以告訴我?！狈ɡ锏潞髞碚f。瓦希德的妻子替我們鋪好草席，我們兩個(gè)躺在一起?！案嬖V你什么？”“你到阿富汗的原因。”他的聲音沒有了那種自遇到他以來一直聽到的鋒芒。
“你沒問?！蔽艺f?！澳銘?yīng)該告訴我。”他翻過身，臉朝著我，屈手墊在頭下?！耙苍S我會(huì)幫你找到這個(gè)男孩?！薄爸x謝你，法里德?！蔽艺f。“我錯(cuò)了，不該瞎猜。”
我嘆氣：“別煩了。你是對(duì)的，只是你不知道而已?！彼p手被綁在身后，粗粗的繩索勒進(jìn)他的手腕，黑布蒙住他的眼睛。他跪在街頭，跪在一溝死水邊上，他的頭耷拉在兩肩之間。他跪在堅(jiān)硬的地面上，他禱告，身子搖晃，鮮血浸透了褲子。天色已近黃昏，他長(zhǎng)長(zhǎng)的身影在沙礫上來回晃動(dòng)。他低聲說著什么。我踏上前。千千萬(wàn)萬(wàn)遍，他低聲說，為你，千千萬(wàn)萬(wàn)遍。他來回?fù)u晃。他揚(yáng)起臉，我看到上唇有道細(xì)微的疤痕。并非只有我們兩個(gè)。我先是看到槍管，接著看到站在他身后那個(gè)人。他很高，穿著人字型背心和黑色長(zhǎng)袍。他低頭看著身前這個(gè)被蒙住眼睛的男人，眼中只有無(wú)盡的空虛。他退后一步，舉起槍管，放在那個(gè)跪著的男人腦后。那時(shí)，黯淡的陽(yáng)光照在那金屬上，閃耀著。
來復(fù)槍發(fā)出震耳欲聾的響聲。我順著槍管向上的弧形，看見槍口冒著裊裊煙霧，看見它后面那張臉。我就是那個(gè)穿著人字型背心的人。我驚醒，尖叫卡在喉嚨中。