殘忍而美麗的情誼:The Kite Runner 追風箏的人(44)

I kept stealing glances at Baba sitting with Rahim Khan on the roof, wondered what he was thinking. Was he cheering for me? Or did a part of him enjoy watching me fail? That was the thing about kite flying: Your mind drifted with the kite.

我偷眼望向爸爸，看見他和拉辛汗坐在一起，尋思他眼下在想些什麼。他在爲我加油嗎?還是希望我的失敗給他帶來愉悅?放風箏就是這樣的，思緒隨着風箏高低起伏。

They were coming down all over the place now, the kites, and I was still flying. I was still flying. My eyes kept wandering over to Baba, bundled up in his wool sweater. Was he surprised I had lasted as long as I had? You don't keep your eyes to the sky, you won't last much longer. I snapped my gaze back to the sky. A red kite was closing in on me--I'd caught it just in time. I tangled a bit with it, ended up besting him when he became impatient and tried to cut me from below.

風箏紛紛墜下，而我的仍在翱翔。我仍在放着風箏，雙眼不時瞟向爸爸，緊緊盯着他的羊毛衫。我堅持了這麼久，他是不是很吃驚?你的眼睛沒有看着天上，你堅持不了多久啦。我將視線收回空中。有隻紅色的風箏正在飛近--我發現它的時間恰到好處。我跟它對峙了一會，它失去耐心，試圖從下面割斷我，我將它送上了不歸路。

Up and down the streets, kite runners were returning triumphantly, their captured kites held high. They showed them off to their parents, their friends. But they all knew the best was yet to come. The biggest prize of all was still flying. I sliced a bright yellow kite with a coiled white tail. It cost me another gash on the?index finger and blood trickled down into my palm. I had Hassan hold the string and sucked the blood dry, blotted my finger against my jeans.

街頭巷尾滿是凱旋而回的追風箏者，他們高舉追到的戰利品，拿着它們在親朋好友面前炫耀。但他們統統知道最好的還沒出現，最大的獎項還在飛翔。我割斷了一隻帶有白色尾巴的黃風箏，代價是食指又多了一道傷口，血液汩汩流入我的掌心。我讓哈桑拿着線，把血吸乾，在牛仔褲上擦擦手指。

Within another hour, the number of surviving kites dwindled from maybe fifty to a dozen. I was one of them. I'd made it to the last dozen. I knew this part of the tournament would take a while, because the guys who had lasted this long were good--they wouldn't easily fall into simple traps like the old lift-and-dive, Hassan's favorite trick.

又過了一個鐘頭，天空中倖存的風箏，已經從約莫五十隻劇減到十來只。我的是其中之一，我殺入前十二名。我知道巡迴賽到了這個階段，會持續一段時間，因爲那些傢伙既然能活下來，技術實在非同小可--他們可不會掉進簡單的陷阱裏面，比如哈桑最喜歡用的那招，古老的猛升急降。

By three o'clock that afternoon, tufts of clouds had drifted in and the sun had slipped behind them. Shadows started to lengthen. The spectators on the roofs bundled up in scarves and thick coats. We were down to a half dozen and I was still flying. My legs ached and my neck was stiff. But with each defeated kite,?hope grew in my heart, like snow collecting on a wall, one flake at a time.

到下午三點，陰雲密佈，太陽躲在它們後面，影子開始拉長，屋頂那些看客戴上圍巾，穿上厚厚的外套。只剩下六隻風箏了，我仍是其中之一。我雙腿發痛，脖子僵硬。但看到風箏一隻只掉落，心裏的希望一點點增大，就像堆在牆上的雪花那樣，一次一片地累積。

My eyes kept returning to a blue kite that had been wreaking havoc for the last hour.

我的眼光轉向一隻藍風箏，在過去那個鐘頭裏面，它大開殺戒。

"How many has he cut?" I asked.

"它幹掉幾隻?"我問。

"I counted eleven," Hassan said.

"我數過了，十一隻。"哈桑說。

"Do you know whose it might be?"

"你知道放風箏的人是誰嗎?"

Hassan clucked his tongue and tipped his chin. That was a trademark Hassan gesture, meant he had no idea. The blue kite sliced a big purple one and swept twice in big loops. Ten minutes later, he'd cut another two, sending hordes of kite runners racing after them.

哈桑啪嗒一下舌頭，仰起下巴。那是哈桑的招牌動作，表示他不知道。藍風箏割斷一隻紫色的大傢伙，轉了兩個大圈。隔了十分鐘，它又幹掉兩隻，追風箏的人蜂擁而上，追逐它們去了。