| Assef’s brow twitched. “Like pride in your people, your customs, your language. Afghanistan is like a beautiful mansion littered with garbage, and someone has to take out the garbage.” | 阿塞夫眉头一锁：“比如为你的人民、你的习俗、你的语言骄傲。阿富汗就像一座到处扔着垃圾的美丽大厦，得有人把垃圾清走。” |
| “That’s what you were doing in Mazar, going door-to-door? Taking out the garbage?” | “那就是你在马扎挨门挨户所做的？清走垃圾？” |
| “Precisely.” | “准确无误。” |
| “In the west, they have an expression for that,” I said. “They call it ethnic cleansing.” | “在西方，人们有另外一个说法，”我说，“他们管这个叫种族清洗。” |
| “Do they?” Assef’s face brightened. “Ethnic cleansing. I like it. I like the sound of it.” | “真的吗？”阿塞夫神色一亮，“种族清洗。我喜欢它。我喜欢它的发音。” |
| “All I want is the boy.” | “我只想要这个男孩。” |
| “Ethnic cleansing,” Assef murmured, tasting the words. | “种族清洗。”阿塞夫喃喃自语，品味着这个词组。 |
| “I want the boy,” I said again. Sohrab’s eyes flicked to me. They were slaughter sheep’s eyes. They even had the mascara--I remembered how, on the day of Eid of qorban, the mullah in our backyard used to apply mascara to the eyes of the sheep and feed it a cube of sugar before slicing its throat. I thought I saw pleading in Sohrab’s eyes. | “我要这个男孩。”我又说了一遍。索拉博的眼睛望着我，那是一双任人宰杀的羔羊的眼睛，甚至还有眼影——我记得，宰牲节那天，我家院子里面，毛拉在割断绵羊的喉咙之前，涂黑它的眼睛，给它吃一块糖。我认为我从索拉博眼中看到了哀求。 |
| “Tell me why,” Assef said. He pinched Sohrab’s earlobe between his teeth. Let go. Sweat beads rolled down his brow. | “告诉我为什么。”阿塞夫说。他的牙齿轻轻咬着索拉博的耳垂，在上面游走。他的额头流出汗珠。 |
| “That’s my business.” | “那是我的事情。” |
| “What do you want to do with him?” he said. Then a coy smile. “Or to him.” | “你想要他干什么呢？”他说，然后露出猥亵的微笑，“或者，想要对他做什么？” |
| “That’s disgusting,” I said. | “真恶心。”我说。 |
| “How would you know? Have you tried it?” | “你怎么知道？你试过了吗？” |
| “I want to take him to a better place.” | “我会带他到一个更好的地方去。” |
| “Tell me why.” | “告诉我为什么。” |
| “That’s my business,” I said. I didn’t know what had emboldened me to be so curt, maybe the fact that I thought I was going to die anyway. | “那是我的事情。”我说。我不知道自己何以变得如此强硬，也许是临死一搏吧。 |
| “I wonder,” Assef said. “I wonder why you’ve come all this way, Amir, come all this way for a Hazara? Why are you here? Why are you really here?” | “我真奇怪，”阿塞夫说，“我真的很奇怪，为何你那么老远来？阿米尔，为什么你那么老远来，就为了一个哈扎拉人？你为什么来这儿？你来这里的真正原因是什么？” |
| “I have my reasons,” I said. | “我有我的理由。”我说。 |
Assef’s brow twitched. “Like pride in your people, your customs, your language. Afghanistan is like a beautiful mansion littered with garbage, and someone has to take out the garbage.”
“That’s what you were doing in Mazar, going door-to-door? Taking out the garbage?”
“Precisely.”
“In the west, they have an expression for that,” I said. “They call it ethnic cleansing.”
“Do they?” Assef’s face brightened. “Ethnic cleansing. I like it. I like the sound of it.”
“All I want is the boy.”
“Ethnic cleansing,” Assef murmured, tasting the words.
“I want the boy,” I said again. Sohrab’s eyes flicked to me. They were slaughter sheep’s eyes. They even had the mascara--I remembered how, on the day of Eid of qorban, the mullah in our backyard used to apply mascara to the eyes of the sheep and feed it a cube of sugar before slicing its throat. I thought I saw pleading in Sohrab’s eyes.
“Tell me why,” Assef said. He pinched Sohrab’s earlobe between his teeth. Let go. Sweat beads rolled down his brow.
“That’s my business.”
“What do you want to do with him?” he said. Then a coy smile. “Or to him.”
“That’s disgusting,” I said.
“How would you know? Have you tried it?”
“I want to take him to a better place.”
“Tell me why.”
“That’s my business,” I said. I didn’t know what had emboldened me to be so curt, maybe the fact that I thought I was going to die anyway.
“I wonder,” Assef said. “I wonder why you’ve come all this way, Amir, come all this way for a Hazara? Why are you here? Why are you really here?”
“I have my reasons,” I said.
阿塞夫眉头一锁：“比如为你的人民、你的习俗、你的语言骄傲。阿富汗就像一座到处扔着垃圾的美丽大厦，得有人把垃圾清走。”
“那就是你在马扎挨门挨户所做的？清走垃圾？”
“准确无误。”
“在西方，人们有另外一个说法，”我说，“他们管这个叫种族清洗。”
“真的吗？”阿塞夫神色一亮，“种族清洗。我喜欢它。我喜欢它的发音。”
“我只想要这个男孩。”
“种族清洗。”阿塞夫喃喃自语，品味着这个词组。
“我要这个男孩。”我又说了一遍。索拉博的眼睛望着我，那是一双任人宰杀的羔羊的眼睛，甚至还有眼影——我记得，宰牲节那天，我家院子里面，毛拉在割断绵羊的喉咙之前，涂黑它的眼睛，给它吃一块糖。我认为我从索拉博眼中看到了哀求。
“告诉我为什么。”阿塞夫说。他的牙齿轻轻咬着索拉博的耳垂，在上面游走。他的额头流出汗珠。
“那是我的事情。”
“你想要他干什么呢？”他说，然后露出猥亵的微笑，“或者，想要对他做什么？”
“真恶心。”我说。
“你怎么知道？你试过了吗？”
“我会带他到一个更好的地方去。”
“告诉我为什么。”
“那是我的事情。”我说。我不知道自己何以变得如此强硬，也许是临死一搏吧。
“我真奇怪，”阿塞夫说，“我真的很奇怪，为何你那么老远来？阿米尔，为什么你那么老远来，就为了一个哈扎拉人？你为什么来这儿？你来这里的真正原因是什么？”
“我有我的理由。”我说。
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