追风筝的人 双语 7

《追风筝的人》原文阅读（七） 2015-07-22 新闻天天译 The Kite Runner 这个时代太浮躁，每个人都会精确地计算自己的得与失，仿佛一切都可以用数字来计量投入产出比，礼物成为交易，恋爱成为投资，还有什么是值得我们真心付出的呢？有人把哈桑的忠诚解读为爱的炮灰，而我更愿意相信，这出于接纳一切的爱的本能。我们关心的是如何得到爱，却不是如何去爱，这样的感情抑或来自需求，抑或来自欲望，惟独不是爱。当把自我放在第一位，去追求等价交换时，永远不会明白爱的真谛。如果说盗窃是原罪，那争夺别人的爱与付出，又何尝不是一种罪行呢？ 世界，我们存在于此，因我们身边的依附而存在。父母赐予生命，家庭抚养和教育长大，有家人、有朋友、有邻里周遭，在各种复杂情感的交织和变化中，我们逐渐找到自己的新路所向。每个人年轻时候都犯过错，有些可以悔改，有些被选择深深埋藏在心地。这些不光彩的过去往往会陪伴众生，每档夜空静寂万籁无息的时候，那些曾经的屈辱、悔恨、痛苦、无助会悄然涌上心头。人非圣贤，先人教育我们及时悔改，父母告诉我们要做正直诚实的孩子。然而，所有人都是在前辈铺就的道路上走出自己的新路。成长，意味着选择，也意味着放弃。选择自己喜欢的，选择对自己无害的，然后在利与弊，罪与罚中慢慢放弃闪光的东西。慢慢地，我们变成了世故的人，对所有真挚的感情将信将疑，把自己的真实想法隐藏在自己编造的各种借口中。一年、两年、五年、十年……直到来日不多之际，才能幡然醒悟。当充满复杂情绪和追忆似水年华的老泪，横流在沟壑纵横的面庞时，人，便也完成了从懵懂到成熟的自我历程。这就是成长，无论年纪大小，无论时间先后，终有一天，我们成长了。 Lore has it my father once wrestled a black bear in Baluchistan with his bare hands. If the story had been about anyone else, it would have been dismissed as "laaf", that Afghan tendency to exaggerate--sadly, almost a national affliction; if someone bragged that his son was a doctor, chances were the kid had once passed a biology test in high school. But no one ever doubted the veracity of any story about Baba. And if they did, well, Baba did have those three parallel scars coursing a jagged path down his back. I have imagined Baba's wrestling match countless times, even dreamed about it. And in those dreams, I can never tell Baba from the bear. It was Rahim Khan who first referred to him as what eventually became Baba's famous nickname, "Toophan agha", or "Mr. Hurricane."It was an apt enough nickname. My father was a force of nature, a towering Pashtun specimen with a thick beard, a wayward crop of curly brown hair as unruly as the man himself, hands that looked capable of uprooting a willow tree, and a black glare that would "drop the devil to his knees begging for mercy,?as Rahim Khan used to say. At parties, when all six-foot-five of him thundered into the room, attention shifted to him like sunflowers turning to the sun. Baba was impossible to ignore, even in his sleep. I used to bury cotton wisps in my ears, pull the blanket over my head, and still the sounds of Baba's snoring—so much like a growling truck engine—penetrated the walls. And my room was across the hall from Baba's bedroom. How my mother ever managed to sleep in the same room as him is a mystery to me. It's on the long list of things I would have asked my mother if I had ever met her. In the late 1960s, when I was five or six, Baba decided to build an orphanage. I heard the story through Rahim Khan. He told me Baba had drawn the blueprints himself despite the fact that he'd had no architectural experience at all. Skeptics had urged him to stop his foolishness and hire an architect. Of course, Baba refused, and everyone shook their heads in dismay at his obstinate ways. Then Baba succeeded and everyone shook their heads in awe at his triumphant ways. Baba paid for the construction of the two-story orphanage, just off the main strip of Jadeh Maywand south of the Kabul River, with his own money. Rahim Khan told me Baba had personally funded the entire project, paying for the engineers, electricians, plumbers, and laborers, not to mention the city officials whose "mustaches needed oiling." 译文： 传说我父亲曾经在俾路支Baluchistan，巴基斯坦城市。赤手空拳，和一只黑熊搏斗。如果这是个关于别人的故事，肯定有人会斥之为笑话奇谈。阿富汗人总喜欢将事物夸大，很不幸，这几乎成了这个民族的特性。如果有人吹嘘说他儿子是医生，很可能是那孩子曾经在高中的生物学测验中考了个及格的分数。但凡涉及爸爸的故事，从来没人怀疑它们的真实性。倘使有人质疑，那么，爸爸背上那三道弯弯曲曲的伤痕就是证据。记不清有多少次，我想像着爸爸那次搏击的场面，甚至有时连做梦也梦到了。而在梦中，我分不清哪个是爸爸，哪个是熊。 有一次拉辛汗管爸爸叫"飓风先生"，这随后变成远近闻名的绰号。这个绰号可是名副其实。爸爸是典型的普什图人，身材高大，孔武有力，留着浓密的小胡子，卷曲的棕色头发甚是好看，跟他本人一样不羁；他双手强壮，似乎能将柳树连根拔起；并且，就像拉辛汗经常说的那样，黑色的眼珠一瞪，会"让魔鬼跪地求饶"。爸爸身高近2米，每当他出席宴会，总是像太阳吸引向日葵那样，把注意力引到自己身上。 爸爸即使在睡觉的时候，也是引人注目。我常在耳朵里面塞上棉花球，用毯子盖住头，但爸爸的鼾声宛如轰轰作响的汽车引擎，依然穿墙越壁而来，而我们的房间中间还隔着客厅呢。妈妈如何能跟他睡在同一个房间?我不得而知。要是能见到我的妈妈，我还有一长串问在1960年代晚期，我五六岁的样子，爸爸决定建造一座恤孤院。故事是拉辛汗告诉我的。他说爸爸亲自设计施工图，尽管他根本没有半点建筑经验。人们对此表示怀疑，劝他别犯傻，雇个建筑师得了。当然，爸爸拒绝了，人们大摇其头，对爸爸的顽固表示不解。然而爸爸成功了，人们又开始摇头了，不过这次是带着敬畏，对他成功的法门称赞不已。恤孤院楼高两层，位于喀布尔河南岸，在雅德梅湾大道旁边，所耗资费均由父亲自己支付。拉辛汗说爸爸独力承担了整个工程，工程师、电工、管道工、建筑工，这些人的工钱都是爸爸支付的。城里的官员也抽了油水，他们的“胡子得上点油”。 阅读 723 投诉