雙語名著·追風箏的人 The Kite Runner(162)

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(162)的精彩內(nèi)容吧！

The tall Talib with the black sunglasses walked to the pile of stones they had unloaded from the third truck. He picked up a rock and showed it to the crowd. The noise fell, replaced by a buzzing sound that rippled through the stadium. I looked around me and saw that everyone was tsk’ing. The Talib, looking absurdly like a baseball pitcher on the mound, hurled the stone at the blindfolded man in the hole. It struck the side of his head. The woman screamed again. The crowd made a startled “OH!” sound. I closed my eyes and covered my face with my hands. The spectators’ “OH!” rhymed with each flinging of the stone, and that went on for a while. When they stopped, I asked Farid if it was over. He said no. I guessed the people’s throats had tired. I don’t know how much longer I sat with my face in my hands. I know that I reopened my eyes when I heard people around me asking, “Mord? Mord? Is he dead?”

The man in the hole was now a mangled mess of blood and shredded rags. His head slumped forward, chin on chest. The Talib in the John Lennon sunglasses was looking down at another man squatting next to the hole, tossing a rock up and down in his hand. The squatting man had one end of a stethoscope to his ears and the other pressed on the chest of the man in the hole. He removed the stethoscope from his ears and shook his head no at the Talib in the sunglasses. The crowd moaned.

John Lennon walked back to the mound. When it was all over, when the bloodied corpses had been unceremoniously tossed into the backs of red pickup trucks--separate ones--a few men with shovels hurriedly filled the holes. One of them made a passing attempt at covering up the large blood stains by kicking dirt over them. A few minutes later, the teams took the field. Second half was under way.

Our meeting was arranged for three o’clock that afternoon. The swiftness with which the appointment was set surprised me. I’d expected delays, a round of questioning at least, perhaps a check of our papers. But I was reminded of how unofficial even official matters still were in Afghanistan: all Farid had to do was tell one of the whip-carrying Talibs that we had personal business to discuss with the man in white. Farid and he exchanged words. The guy with the whip then nodded and shouted something in Pashtu to a young man on the field, who ran to the south-end goalposts where the Talib in the sunglasses was chatting with the plump cleric who’d given the sermon. The three spoke. I saw the guy in the sunglasses look up. He nodded. Said something in the messenger’s ear. The young man relayed the message back to us.

It was set, then. Three o’clock.

法里德說。戴墨鏡的高個子塔利班走過幾堆石頭，那是他們適才從第三輛車上卸載的。他舉起一塊石頭，給人群看。喧鬧聲靜下來，取而代之的是陣陣嗡嗡聲，在體育館起伏。我看看身邊的人，大家都嘖嘖有聲。那個塔利班，很荒唐的，看上去像個站在球板上的棒球投手，把石頭扔向埋在洞里那個蒙著眼的男子，擊中了那人的頭部，那個婦女又尖叫起來。人群發(fā)出一聲“?。　钡拟鸾?。我閉上眼，用手掩著臉。每塊投出的石頭都伴隨著人群的驚呼，持續(xù)了好一會。他們住口不喊了，我問法里德是不是結(jié)束了，法里德說還沒。我猜想人們叫累了。我不知道自己掩著臉坐了多久，我只知道，當我聽到身邊人們問“死了嗎？死了嗎？”，這才重新睜開眼睛。

洞里那個男子變成一團模糊的血肉和破布。他的頭垂在前面，下巴抵在胸前。戴著約翰 ?列農(nóng)墨鏡的塔利班看著蹲在洞邊的另一個男子，手里一上一下拋擲石頭。蹲下那個男子耳朵掛著聽診器，將另外一端壓在洞里男子的胸前。他把聽診器摘離耳朵，朝戴墨鏡的塔利班搖搖頭。人群哀嘆。

“約翰?列農(nóng)”走回投球板。一切都結(jié)束之后，血肉淋漓的尸體各自被草草丟到紅色皮卡車的后面，數(shù)個男人用鏟子匆匆把洞填好。其中有個踢起塵土，蓋在血跡上，勉強將其掩住。

不消幾分鐘，球隊回到場上。下半場開始了。我們的會見被安排在下午三點鐘。這么快就得到接見，實在出乎我意料。我原以為會拖一段時間，至少盤問一番，也許還要檢查我們的證件。但這提醒我，在阿富汗，直到今天，官方的事情仍是如此不正式：法里德所做的，不過是告訴一個手執(zhí)鞭子的塔利班，說我們有些私人事情要跟那個穿白色衣服的男子談談。法里德和他說了幾句。帶鞭子那人點點頭，用普什圖語朝球場上某個年輕人大喊，那人跑到南邊球門，戴太陽鏡的塔利班在那兒跟剛才發(fā)言的教士聊天。他們?nèi)齻€交談。我看見戴太陽鏡那個家伙抬起頭，他點點頭，在傳訊入耳邊說話。那個年輕人把消息帶給我們。

就這么敲定。三點鐘。