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残忍而美丽的情谊:The Kite Runner 追风筝的人(83)

来源:可可英语 编辑:shaun   可可英语APP下载 |  可可官方微信:ikekenet
“_Mashallah_,” General Taheri said. “Will you be writing about our country, history perhaps? Economics?”“安拉保佑。”塔赫里将军说,“你会写我们国家的故事吗,也许可以写写历史?经济?”
“I write fiction,” I said, thinking of the dozen or so short stories I had written in the leather-bound notebook Rahim Khan had given me, wondering why I was suddenly embarrassed by them in this man’s presence.“我写小说。”我说着想起了自己写在拉辛汗送的皮面笔记本里面那十来个故事,奇怪自己为什么在这个人面前突然有些不自在。
“Ah, a storyteller,” the general said. “Well, people need stories to divert them at difficult times like this.” He put his hand on Baba’s shoulder and turned to me. “Speaking of stories, your father and I hunted pheasant together one summer day in Jalalabad,” he said. “It was a marvelous time. If I recall correctly, your father’s eye proved as keen in the hunt as it had in business.”“啊,讲故事的。”将军说,“很好,人们在如今这样的艰苦岁月需要故事来分散注意力。”他把手伸在爸爸的肩膀上,转向我。“说到故事,有一年夏天,你爸爸跟我到贾拉拉巴特去猎野鸡,”他说,“那次真叫人称奇。如果我没记错,你爸爸打猎跟他做生意一样,都是一把好手。”
Baba kicked a wooden tennis racket on our tarpaulin spread with the toe of his boot. “Some business.”爸爸正在用鞋尖踢着摆在我们的帆布上一把木制网球拍。“有些生意而已。”
General Taheri managed a simultaneously sad and polite smile, heaved a sigh, and gently patted Baba’s shoulder. “Zendagi migzara,” he said. Life goes on. He turned his eyes to me. “We Afghans are prone to a considerable degree of exaggeration, bachem, and I have heard many men foolishly labeled great. But your father has the distinction of belonging to the minority who truly deserves the label.” This little speech sounded to me the way his suit looked: often used and unnaturally shiny.塔赫里将军露出一丝礼貌而哀伤的微笑,叹了口气,轻轻拍拍爸爸的肩膀。“生活总会继续。”他把眼光投向我,“我们阿富汗人总是喜欢夸大其词,孩子,我听过无数人愚蠢地使用‘了不起’这个词。但是,你的爸爸属于少数几个配得上这个形容词的人。”这番短短的话在我听来,跟他的衣服如出一辙:用的场合太多了,闪亮得有些造作。
“You’re flattering me,” Baba said.“你在奉承我。”爸爸说。
“I am not,” the general said, tilting his head sideways and pressing his hand to his chest to convey humility. “Boys and girls must know the legacy of their fathers.” He turned to me. “Do you appreciate your father, bachem? Do you really appreciate him?”“我没有。”将军说,他侧过头,把手放在胸前表示尊敬,“男孩和女孩得知道他们父亲的优点。”他转向我,“你崇敬你的爸爸吗,我的孩子?你真的崇敬他吗?”
“Balay, General Sahib, I do,” I said, wishing he’d not call me “my child.”“当然,将军大人,我崇敬他。”我说,要是他别叫我“我的孩子”就好了。
“Then congratulations, you are already halfway to being a man,” he said with no trace of humor, no irony, the compliment of the casually arrogant.“那么,恭喜你,你已经快要长成一位男子汉了。”他说,口气没有半点幽默,没有讽刺,只有不卑不亢的恭维。
“Padar jan, you forgot your tea.” A young woman’s voice. She was standing behind us, a slim-hipped beauty with velvety coal black hair, an open thermos and Styrofoam cup in her hand. I blinked, my heart quickening. She had thick black eyebrows that touched in the middle like the arched wings of a flying bird, and the gracefully hooked nose of a princess from old Persia--maybe that of Tahmineh, Rostam’s wife and Sohrab’s mother from the _Shahnamah_. Her eyes, walnut brown and shaded by fanned lashes, met mine. Held for a moment. Flew away.“亲爱的爸爸,你忘了你的茶。”一个年轻女子的声音。她站在我们后面,是个身材苗条的美人,天鹅绒般的黑发,手里拿着一个打开的保温杯和一个塑料杯。我眨眨眼,心跳加快。她的眉毛又黑又浓,中间连在一起,宛如飞翔的鸟儿张开的双翅,笔挺的鼻子很优雅,活像古代波斯公主——也许像拓敏妮,《沙纳玛》书中罗斯坦的妻子,索拉博的妈妈。她那长长睫毛下面胡桃色的眼睛跟我对望了一会儿,移开了视线。
“You are so kind, my dear,” General Taheri said. He took the cup from her. Before she turned to go, I saw she had a brown, sickle-shaped birthmark on the smooth skin just above her left jawline. She walked to a dull gray van two aisles away and put the thermos inside. Her hair spilled to one side when she kneeled amid boxes of old records and paperbacks.“你真乖,我亲爱的。”塔赫里将军说,从她手里接过杯子。在她转身离去之前,我见到她光滑的皮肤上有个镰状的棕色胎记,就在左边下巴上。她走过两条通道,把保温杯放在一辆货车里面。她跪在装着唱片和平装书的盒子中间,秀发倾泻在一旁。
“My daughter, Soraya jan,” General Taheri said. He took a deep breath like a man eager to change the subject and checked his gold pocket watch. “Well, time to go and set up.” He and Baba kissed on the cheek and he shook my hand with both of his. “Best of luck with the writing,” he said, looking me in the eye. His pale blue eyes revealed nothing of the thoughts behind them.“我的女儿,亲爱的索拉雅。”塔赫里将军说。他深深吸了一口气,看来想换个话题了,他掏出金怀表,看了看时间。“好啦,到时间了,我得去整理整理。”他和爸爸相互亲吻脸颊,用双手跟我握别。“祝你写作顺利。”他盯着我的眼睛说,浅蓝色的双眼没有透露出半点他心里的想法。
For the rest of that day, I fought the urge to look toward the gray van.在那天剩下的时间里,我总忍不住望向那辆灰色的货车。
IT CAME TO ME on our way home. Taheri, I knew I’d heard that name before.在我们回家的路上,我想起来了。塔赫里,我知道我以前听过这个名字。
“Wasn’t there some story floating around about Taheri’s daughter?” I said to Baba, trying to sound casual.“是不是有过关于塔赫里将军女儿的流言蜚语啊?”我假装漫不经心地问爸爸。
“You know me,” Baba said, inching the bus along the queue exiting the flea market. “Talk turns to gossip and I walk away.”“你知道我的,”爸爸说,他开着巴士,在跳蚤市场出口长长的车队中缓慢前进。“每当人们说三道四我都会走开。”
“But there was, wasn’t there?” I said.“可是有过,是吗?”我说。
“Why do you ask?” He was looking at me coyly.“你为什么要问呢?”他犹疑地看着我。
I shrugged and fought back a smile. “Just curious, Baba.”我耸耸肩,挤出微笑:“好奇而已,爸爸。”
“Really? Is that all?” he said, his eyes playful, lingering on mine. “Has she made an impression on you?”“真的吗?真是这样吗?”他说,眼光露出一丝狡狯,看着我的眼睛,“你该不是对她有意思了吧?”
I rolled my eyes. “Please, Baba.”我把眼光移开,“拜托,老爸。”

“_Mashallah_,” General Taheri said. “Will you be writing about our country, history perhaps? Economics?”
“I write fiction,” I said, thinking of the dozen or so short stories I had written in the leather-bound notebook Rahim Khan had given me, wondering why I was suddenly embarrassed by them in this man’s presence.
“Ah, a storyteller,” the general said. “Well, people need stories to divert them at difficult times like this.” He put his hand on Baba’s shoulder and turned to me. “Speaking of stories, your father and I hunted pheasant together one summer day in Jalalabad,” he said. “It was a marvelous time. If I recall correctly, your father’s eye proved as keen in the hunt as it had in business.”
Baba kicked a wooden tennis racket on our tarpaulin spread with the toe of his boot. “Some business.”
General Taheri managed a simultaneously sad and polite smile, heaved a sigh, and gently patted Baba’s shoulder. “Zendagi migzara,” he said. Life goes on. He turned his eyes to me. “We Afghans are prone to a considerable degree of exaggeration, bachem, and I have heard many men foolishly labeled great. But your father has the distinction of belonging to the minority who truly deserves the label.” This little speech sounded to me the way his suit looked: often used and unnaturally shiny.
“You’re flattering me,” Baba said.
“I am not,” the general said, tilting his head sideways and pressing his hand to his chest to convey humility. “Boys and girls must know the legacy of their fathers.” He turned to me. “Do you appreciate your father, bachem? Do you really appreciate him?”
“Balay, General Sahib, I do,” I said, wishing he’d not call me “my child.”
“Then congratulations, you are already halfway to being a man,” he said with no trace of humor, no irony, the compliment of the casually arrogant.
“Padar jan, you forgot your tea.” A young woman’s voice. She was standing behind us, a slim-hipped beauty with velvety coal black hair, an open thermos and Styrofoam cup in her hand. I blinked, my heart quickening. She had thick black eyebrows that touched in the middle like the arched wings of a flying bird, and the gracefully hooked nose of a princess from old Persia--maybe that of Tahmineh, Rostam’s wife and Sohrab’s mother from the _Shahnamah_. Her eyes, walnut brown and shaded by fanned lashes, met mine. Held for a moment. Flew away.
“You are so kind, my dear,” General Taheri said. He took the cup from her. Before she turned to go, I saw she had a brown, sickle-shaped birthmark on the smooth skin just above her left jawline. She walked to a dull gray van two aisles away and put the thermos inside. Her hair spilled to one side when she kneeled amid boxes of old records and paperbacks.
“My daughter, Soraya jan,” General Taheri said. He took a deep breath like a man eager to change the subject and checked his gold pocket watch. “Well, time to go and set up.” He and Baba kissed on the cheek and he shook my hand with both of his. “Best of luck with the writing,” he said, looking me in the eye. His pale blue eyes revealed nothing of the thoughts behind them.
For the rest of that day, I fought the urge to look toward the gray van.
IT CAME TO ME on our way home. Taheri, I knew I’d heard that name before.
“Wasn’t there some story floating around about Taheri’s daughter?” I said to Baba, trying to sound casual.
“You know me,” Baba said, inching the bus along the queue exiting the flea market. “Talk turns to gossip and I walk away.”
“But there was, wasn’t there?” I said.
“Why do you ask?” He was looking at me coyly.
I shrugged and fought back a smile. “Just curious, Baba.”
“Really? Is that all?” he said, his eyes playful, lingering on mine. “Has she made an impression on you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Please, Baba.”


“安拉保佑。”塔赫里将军说,“你会写我们国家的故事吗,也许可以写写历史?经济?”
“我写小说。”我说着想起了自己写在拉辛汗送的皮面笔记本里面那十来个故事,奇怪自己为什么在这个人面前突然有些不自在。
“啊,讲故事的。”将军说,“很好,人们在如今这样的艰苦岁月需要故事来分散注意力。”他把手伸在爸爸的肩膀上,转向我。“说到故事,有一年夏天,你爸爸跟我到贾拉拉巴特去猎野鸡,”他说,“那次真叫人称奇。如果我没记错,你爸爸打猎跟他做生意一样,都是一把好手。”
爸爸正在用鞋尖踢着摆在我们的帆布上一把木制网球拍。“有些生意而已。”
塔赫里将军露出一丝礼貌而哀伤的微笑,叹了口气,轻轻拍拍爸爸的肩膀。“生活总会继续。”他把眼光投向我,“我们阿富汗人总是喜欢夸大其词,孩子,我听过无数人愚蠢地使用‘了不起’这个词。但是,你的爸爸属于少数几个配得上这个形容词的人。”这番短短的话在我听来,跟他的衣服如出一辙:用的场合太多了,闪亮得有些造作。
“你在奉承我。”爸爸说。
“我没有。”将军说,他侧过头,把手放在胸前表示尊敬,“男孩和女孩得知道他们父亲的优点。”他转向我,“你崇敬你的爸爸吗,我的孩子?你真的崇敬他吗?”
“当然,将军大人,我崇敬他。”我说,要是他别叫我“我的孩子”就好了。
“那么,恭喜你,你已经快要长成一位男子汉了。”他说,口气没有半点幽默,没有讽刺,只有不卑不亢的恭维。
“亲爱的爸爸,你忘了你的茶。”一个年轻女子的声音。她站在我们后面,是个身材苗条的美人,天鹅绒般的黑发,手里拿着一个打开的保温杯和一个塑料杯。我眨眨眼,心跳加快。她的眉毛又黑又浓,中间连在一起,宛如飞翔的鸟儿张开的双翅,笔挺的鼻子很优雅,活像古代波斯公主——也许像拓敏妮,《沙纳玛》书中罗斯坦的妻子,索拉博的妈妈。她那长长睫毛下面胡桃色的眼睛跟我对望了一会儿,移开了视线。
“你真乖,我亲爱的。”塔赫里将军说,从她手里接过杯子。在她转身离去之前,我见到她光滑的皮肤上有个镰状的棕色胎记,就在左边下巴上。她走过两条通道,把保温杯放在一辆货车里面。她跪在装着唱片和平装书的盒子中间,秀发倾泻在一旁。
“我的女儿,亲爱的索拉雅。”塔赫里将军说。他深深吸了一口气,看来想换个话题了,他掏出金怀表,看了看时间。“好啦,到时间了,我得去整理整理。”他和爸爸相互亲吻脸颊,用双手跟我握别。“祝你写作顺利。”他盯着我的眼睛说,浅蓝色的双眼没有透露出半点他心里的想法。
在那天剩下的时间里,我总忍不住望向那辆灰色的货车。
在我们回家的路上,我想起来了。塔赫里,我知道我以前听过这个名字。
“是不是有过关于塔赫里将军女儿的流言蜚语啊?”我假装漫不经心地问爸爸。
“你知道我的,”爸爸说,他开着巴士,在跳蚤市场出口长长的车队中缓慢前进。“每当人们说三道四我都会走开。”
“可是有过,是吗?”我说。
“你为什么要问呢?”他犹疑地看着我。
我耸耸肩,挤出微笑:“好奇而已,爸爸。”
“真的吗?真是这样吗?”他说,眼光露出一丝狡狯,看着我的眼睛,“你该不是对她有意思了吧?”
我把眼光移开,“拜托,老爸。”
重点单词   查看全部解释    
legacy ['legəsi]

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n. 祖先传下来之物,遗赠物
adj. [计算

联想记忆
gracefully

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adv. 优雅地;温文地

 
convey [kən'vei]

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vt. 传达,表达,运输,转移
vt.

联想记忆
dull [dʌl]

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adj. 呆滞的,迟钝的,无趣的,钝的,暗的

 
simultaneously [saiməl'teiniəsli]

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adv. 同时地(联立地)

 
shoulder ['ʃəuldə]

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n. 肩膀,肩部
v. 扛,肩负,承担,(用肩

 
flattering ['flætəriŋ]

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adj. 奉承的;谄媚的

 
playful ['pleifəl]

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adj. 爱玩耍的,幽默的

 
spread [spred]

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v. 伸展,展开,传播,散布,铺开,涂撒
n.

 
runner ['rʌnə]

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n. 赛跑的人,跑步者

 

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