大家好，這裡是williamhill威廉希尔官网英語調頻廣播台，我是主播韓思。今天我為大家帶來了美籍阿富汗作家卡勒德·胡賽尼的經典著作——《追風筝的人》。2005年，這部現實主義題材的書籍一經出世，便成為年度銷售黑馬，暢銷全世界。作者以自己的童年經曆為背景，用溫暖細膩的筆觸勾勒了人性的本質，還原了阿富汗每天都在上演的真實故事，第一次把阿富汗展示在世界面前，讓人們了解這個戰火紛飛的國度。友情、愛情、親情，勇敢與懦弱，忠誠與背叛，逃避與直面，成長與救贖，在作者輕柔的筆觸下，娓娓道來，故事情節引人入神，跌宕起伏。接下來，讓我們走近這本書，欣賞它的精彩篇章。
首先讓我們先來了解一下這篇文章裡出現的一些重點詞彙
sparkle[ ˈspɑːrk(ə)l ]v.閃爍，閃耀
dangle[ ˈdæŋɡ(ə)l ]v.懸垂，懸蕩
sheathe[ ʃiːð ]v.覆蓋
sphere[ sfɪr ]n.範圍，領域
sprawling[ ˈsprɔːlɪŋ ]adj.蔓延的
thaw[ θɔː ]v.融化，解凍，變得緩和
The Kite Runner
Khaled Hosseini
追風筝的人
作者：卡勒德·胡賽尼
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.
午後的陽光灑在波光粼粼的湖面上，數十艘小船在微風中漂行。我擡起頭，望見兩隻紅風筝，拖着長長的藍尾巴，在天空中冉冉升起。
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.
(風筝)它們飛舞着越過公園西邊的樹林，飛過風車，并排翺翔着，像一雙眼睛俯瞰舊金山，這個我現在稱之為家的城市。
When we were children, Hassan and Iusedto climb the poplar trees in the driveway of my father's house and annoy our neighbors by reflecting sunlight into their homes with a shard of mirror. We would sit across from each other on a pair of high branches, our naked feet dangling, our trouser pockets filled with dried mulberries and walnuts.
小時候，我和哈桑經常爬上爸爸房子前種着的白楊樹上，用一片鏡子碎片把陽光反射進鄰居家，惹得他們很惱火。我們還會相對坐在高高的樹幹上，光着腳丫晃來晃去，褲兜裡塞滿了桑葚幹和胡桃。
Some thought it was the prettiest house in all of Kabul. A broad entryway flanked by rosebushes led to the sprawling house of marble floors and wide windows. Intricate mosaic tiles, handpicked by Baba in Isfahan, covered the floors of the four bathrooms.
有人認為它是全喀布爾最華美的房子。入口通道寬闊，兩旁種着薔薇，一直通往有大理石地闆和大窗戶的房子。裡面四間卧室地面鋪滿了爸爸親手從伊斯法罕挑選的精美馬賽克瓷磚。
“When you kill a man, you steal a life, " Baba said. “You steal his wife's right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone's right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness."
“當你殺害一個人，你偷走一條性命，”爸爸說，“你偷走他妻子身為人婦的權利，奪走他子女的父親。當你說謊，你偷走别人知道真相的權利。當你詐騙，你偷走公平的權利。”
The sky is seamless and blue, the snow so white my eyes burn. I shovel a handful of the fresh snow into my mouth, listen to the muffled stillness broken only by the cawing of crows.
天空一碧如洗，萬裡無雲。白晃晃的雪花刺痛我的眼睛。我捧起一把新雪，塞進嘴裡，四周靜谧無聲，隻有幾聲烏鴉的啼叫傳進耳裡。
I love wintertime in Kabul. I love it for the soft pattering of snow against my window at night, for the way fresh snow crunched under my black rubber boots, for the warmth of the cast-iron stove as the wind screeched through the yards, the streets.
我喜歡喀布爾的冬天。我喜歡夜裡滿天飛雪輕輕敲打我的窗戶，我喜歡新霁的積雪在我的黑色膠靴下嘎吱作響，我喜歡感受鐵爐的溫暖，聽寒風呼嘯着吹過街道、吹過院子。
Not a word passes between us, not because we have nothing to say, but because we don't have to say anything.
我們默默無聲，但并非因為我們無話可說，而是因為我們之間無需交談。
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.
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。回首前塵，我意識到在過去二十六年裡，自己始終在窺視着那荒蕪的小徑。
It appeared that on the same night I had learned about one of writing's objectives, irony, I would also be introduced to one of its pitfalls: the Plot Hole. Taught by Hassan, of all people. Hassan who couldn't read and had never written a single word in his entire life.
就在同一個夜晚，我學到了寫作的目标之一：諷刺；我還學到了寫作的陷阱之一：情節破綻。芸芸衆生中，惟獨哈桑教給我。這個目不識丁、不會寫字的哈桑。
To him, the words on the page were a scramble of codes, indecipherable, mysterious. Words were secret doorways and I held all the keys.
對他而言，書頁上的文字無非是一些線條，神秘而不知所雲。文字是扇秘密的門，鑰匙在我手裡。
But mostly because, as the trees froze and ice sheathed the roads, the chill between Baba and me thawed a little. And the reason for that was the kites. Baba and I lived in the same house, but in different spheres of existence. Kites were the one paper-thin slice of intersection between those spheres.
但是更重要的是，每當樹木蕭瑟、冰雪封路的時候，我和父親之間的寒冷會稍作好轉。那是因為風筝。爸爸和我住在同一個屋檐下，但是卻在各自的生活區域，而風筝則是我們之間薄如紙的交集。
For you, a thousand times over.
為你，千千萬萬遍。
文章來源：每日英語讀書
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，我是主播韓思，我們下期再見。
