双语名著·追风筝的人 The Kite Runner(207)

12岁的阿富汗富家少爷阿米尔与仆人哈桑情同手足。然而，在一场风筝比赛后，发生了一件悲惨不堪的事，阿米尔为自己的懦弱感到自责和痛苦，逼走了哈桑，不久，自己也跟随父亲逃往美国。

成年后的阿米尔始终无法原谅自己当年对哈桑的背叛。为了赎罪，阿米尔再度踏上暌违二十多年的故乡，希望能为不幸的好友尽最后一点心力，却发现一个惊天谎言，儿时的噩梦再度重演，阿米尔该如何抉择?

故事如此残忍而又美丽，作者以温暖细腻的笔法勾勒人性的本质与救赎，读来令人荡气回肠。

下面就跟小编一起来欣赏双语名著·追风筝的人 The Kite Runner(207)的精彩内容吧！

“Yes.”
“I meant to tell you in there, about what you’re trying to do? I think it’s pretty great.”He waved as he pulled away. Standing outside the hotel room and waving back, I wished Soraya could be there with me.SOHRAB HAD TURNED OFF THE TV when l went back into the room. I sat on the edge of my bed, asked him to sit next to me. “Mr. Faisal thinks there is a way I can take you to America with me,” I said.
“He does?” Sohrab said, smiling faintly for the first time in days. “When can we go?”
“Well, that’s the thing. It might take a little while. But he said it can be done and he’s going to help us.” I put my hand on the back of his neck. From outside, the call to prayer blared through the streets.
“How long?” Sohrab asked.
“I don’t know. A while.”
Sohrab shrugged and smiled, wider this time. “I don’t mind. I can wait. It’s like the sour apples.”
“Sour apples?”
“One time, when I was really little, I climbed a tree and ate these green, sour apples. My stomach swelled and became hard like a drum, it hurt a lot. Mother said that if I’d just waited for the apples to ripen, I wouldn’t have become sick. So now, whenever I really want something, I try to remember what she said about the apples.”
“Sour apples,” I said. “_Mashallah_, you’re just about the smartest little guy I’ve ever met, Sohrab jan.” His ears reddened with a blush.
“Absolutely,” I said. “Absolutely.”
“And we’ll drive up those streets, the ones where all you see is the hood of the car and the sky?”
“Every single one of them,” I said. My eyes stung with tears and I blinked them away.
“Is English hard to learn?”
“I say, within a year, you’ll speak it as well as Farsi.”
“Really?”

“嗯？”
“我刚才跟你说过吗？你正在努力争取的事情很了不起。”他招招手，把车驶离。我站在宾馆房间门外，也朝他挥手。我希望索拉雅在身边陪着我。我回到房间的时候，索拉博已经关掉电视了。我坐在自己的床沿，让他挨着我坐下。“费萨尔先生说有个办法可以让我把你带去美国。”我说。
“真的吗？”他好几天来第一次露出微弱的笑容，“我们什么时候能走？”
“嗯，事情是这样的。可能需要一段时间，但他说可以做到，而且他会帮助我们。”我把手放在他脖子后面。外面，召唤人们祷告的钟声。响彻大街小巷。
“多久？”索拉博问。
“我不知道，一阵吧。”
索拉博耸耸肩，微笑着，这次笑得更灿烂了：“我不在乎，我能等。那就像酸苹果。”
“酸苹果？”
“有一次，我很小的时候，我爬上一棵树，吃那些青青的酸苹果。我的小腹变得又肿又硬，像鼓那样，痛得厉害。妈妈说只要我等到苹果熟透，就不会生病了。所以现在，无论我真正想要什么，我都会想起她说过的关于苹果的话。”
“酸苹果，”我说，“安拉保佑，你是我见过最聪明的孩子，亲爱的索拉博。”他的耳朵红了起来。
“绝对是。”我说， “绝对是。”
“我们会开车到那些街上去吗？那些你只能看见车顶和天空的街道？”
“我们每一条都去。”我说，眼泪涌上来，我眨眼强行忍住。
“英语难学吗？”
“我敢说，不用一年，你就可以说得跟法尔西语一样流利。”
“真的吗？”