介绍:
One day, in July 1973, I played another little trick onHassan. I was reading to him, and suddenly Istrayed from the written story. I pretended I wasreading from the book, flipping pages regularly, but Ihad abandoned the text altogether, taken over thestory, and made up my own. Hassan, of course, wasoblivious to this. To him, the words on the pagewere a scramble of codes, indecipherable, mysterious. Words were secret doorways and I heldall the keys. After, I started to ask him if he'd likedthe story, a giggle rising in my throat, when Hassanbegan to clap.
1973年7月某天，我开了哈桑另外一个玩笑。我念书给他听，接着突然不管那个写好的故事。我假装念着书，像平常那样翻着书，可是我说的跟书本毫无关系，而是抛开那个故事，自己杜撰一个。当然，哈桑对此一无所知。对他而言，书页上的文字无非是一些线条，神秘而不知所云。文字是扇秘密的门，钥匙在我手里。完了之后，我嘴里咯咯笑着，问他是否喜欢这个故事，哈桑拍手叫好。
"What are you doing?"I said.
"你在干吗呢?"我说。
"That was the best story you've read me in a long time,"he said, still clapping.
"你很久没念过这么精彩的故事了。"他说，仍拍着双手。
I laughed. "Really?"
我大笑:"真的吗?"
"Really."
"真的。"
"That's fascinating,"I muttered. I meant it too. This was... wholly unexpected. "Are you sure, Hassan?"
"太奇妙了，"我喃喃说道。我是说真的，这真是……完全意料不到。"没骗我吧，哈桑?"
He was still clapping. "It was great, Amir agha. Will you read me more of it tomorrow?"
他仍在鼓掌:"太棒了，阿米尔少爷。你明天可以多念一些给我听吗?"
"Fascinating,"I repeated, a little breathless, feeling like a man who discovers a buried treasurein his own backyard. Walking down the hill, thoughts were exploding in my head like thefireworks at "Chaman". "Best story you've read me in a long time", he'd said. I had read him a"lot" of stories. Hassan was asking me something.
"太奇妙了。"我又说了一遍，有些喘不过气，好比有个男人在自家后院发现了一处宝藏。下山的时候，各种念头在我脑海炸开来，如同在察曼大道燃放的烟花。你好久没念过这么精彩的故事了。他这么说。哈桑在问我问题。
"What?"I said.
"什么?"我说。
"What does that mean, ‘fascinating'?"
"'奇妙'是什么意思?"
I laughed. Clutched him in a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek.
我哈哈大笑，给了他一个拥抱，在他脸上亲了一下。
"What was that for?"he said, startled, blushing.
"干吗这样啊?"他红着脸，吃吃地说。
I gave him a friendly shove. Smiled. "You're a prince, Hassan. You're a prince and I love you."
我友善地推了他一把，微笑着说:"你是王子，哈桑。你是王子，我爱你。"
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