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　　2021考研英语阅读怎么训练自己才能得到提高呢？每天阅读一篇英语文章，保持语感，熟悉英文的说话方式，对大家在进行2021考研英语考试的时候非常有帮助，文都网校考研小编为大家带来今天的阅读练习资料：追风筝的人。一起来看看吧~

2021考研英语阅读练习资料：追风筝的人-17

　　We chased the "Kochi", the nomads who passedthrough Kabul on their way to the mountains of thenorth. We would hear their caravans approaching ourneighborhood, the mewling of their sheep, the "baaing" of their goats, the jingle of bells aroundtheir camels' necks. We'd run outside to watch thecaravan plod through our street, men with dusty, weather-beaten faces and women dressed in long, colorful shawls, beads, and silver bracelets aroundtheir wrists and ankles. We hurled pebbles at theirgoats. We squirted water on their mules. I'd makeHassan sit on the Wall of Ailing Corn and fire pebbles with his slingshot at the camels' rears.

　　我们还追逐过路的游牧部落，他们经由喀布尔，前往北方的层峦叠嶂。我们能听到他们的牧群走近的声音：绵羊咪咪，山羊咩咩，还有那叮当作响的驼铃。我们会跑出去，看着他们的队伍在街道上行进，男人满身尘灰，脸色沧桑，女人披着长长的、色彩斑斓的肩巾，挂着珠链，手腕和脚踝都戴着银镯子。我们朝他们的山羊投掷石头，拿水泼他们的骡子。我让哈桑坐在"病玉米之墙"，拿弹弓用小圆石射他们的骆驼的屁股。

　　We saw our first Western together, "Rio Bravo" with John Wayne, at the Cinema Park, across thestreet from my favorite bookstore. I remember begging Baba to take us to Iran so we couldmeet John Wayne. Baba burst out in gales of his deepthroated laughter--a sound not unlike atruck engine revving up--and, when he could talk again, explained to us the concept of voicedubbing. Hassan and I were stunned. Dazed. John Wayne didn't really speak Farsi and he wasn'tIranian! He was American, just like the friendly, longhaired men and women we always sawhanging around in Kabul, dressed in their tattered, brightly colored shirts. We saw "Rio Bravo" three times, but we saw our favorite Western, "The Magnificent Seven", thirteen times. Witheach viewing, we cried at the end when the Mexican kids buried Charles Bronson--who, as itturned out, wasn't Iranian either.

　　我们第一次看西部电影也是两个人，在与那家我最喜欢的书店一街之隔的电影院公园，看的是约翰·韦恩的《赤胆屠龙》。我记得当时我求爸爸带我们到伊朗去，那样我们就可以见到约翰·韦恩了。爸爸爆发出一阵爽朗的狂笑--与汽车引擎加速的声音颇为相像，等他能说得出话的时候，告诉我们电影配音是怎么回事。哈桑跟我目瞪口呆，愣住了。原来约翰·韦恩不是真的说法尔西语，也不是伊朗人!他是美国人，就像那些我们经常看到的男男女女一样，他们神情友善，留着长发，吊儿郎当地穿着五颜六色的衣服，在喀布尔城里游荡。我们看了三遍《赤胆屠龙》，但我们最喜欢的西部片是《七侠荡寇志》，看了十三遍。每次电影快结束的时候，我们哭着观看那些墨西哥小孩埋葬查尔斯·勃朗森--结果他也不是伊朗人。

　　We took strolls in the musty-smelling bazaars of the Shar-e-Nau section of Kabul, or the newcity, west of the Wazir Akbar Khan district. We talked about whatever film we had just seenand walked amid the bustling crowds of "bazarris". We snaked our way among the merchantsand the beggars, wandered through narrow alleys cramped with rows of tiny, tightly packedstalls. Baba gave us each a weekly allowance of ten Afghanis and we spent it on warm Coca-Cola and rosewater ice cream topped with crushed pistachios.

　　我们在喀布尔新城那个弥漫着难闻气味的市场闲逛。新城叫沙里诺区，在瓦兹尔·阿克巴·汗区以西。我们谈论刚刚看完的电影，走在市场熙熙攘攘的人群中。我们在商人和乞丐中蜿蜒前进，穿过那些小店云集的拥挤过道。爸爸每周给我们每人十块阿富汗尼Afghanis，阿富汗货币名称。的零花钱，我们用来买温热的可口可乐，还有洒着开心果仁的玫瑰香露雪糕。

　　During the school year, we had a daily routine. By the time I dragged myself out of bed andlumbered to the bathroom, Hassan had already washed up, prayed the morning "namaz" withAli, and prepared my breakfast: hot black tea with three sugar cubes and a slice of toasted "naan" topped with my favorite sour cherry marmalade, all neatly placed on the dining table. While I ate and complained about homework, Hassan made my bed, polished my shoes, ironedmy outfit for the day, packed my books and pencils. I'd hear him singing to himself in thefoyer as he ironed, singing old Hazara songs in his nasal voice. Then, Baba and I drove off inhis black Ford Mustang--a car that drew envious looks everywhere because it was the same carSteve McQueen had driven in "Bullitt", a film that played in one theater for six months. Hassanstayed Home and helped Ali with the day's chores: hand-washing dirty clothes and hangingthem to dry in the yard, sweeping the floors, buying fresh "naan" from the bazaar, marinatingmeat for dinner, watering the lawn.

　　上学那些年，我们每日有固定的程式。每当我从床上爬起来，拖拖沓沓走向卫生间，哈桑早已洗漱完毕，跟阿里做完早晨的祈祷，帮我弄好早餐：加了三块方糖的热红茶，一片涂着我最 爱吃的樱桃酱的馕饼，所有这些整整齐齐地摆在桌子上。我边吃边抱怨功课，哈桑收拾我的床铺，擦亮我的鞋子，熨好我那天要穿的衣服，替我放好课本和铅笔。我听见他在门廊边熨衣服边唱歌，用他那带鼻音的嗓子唱着古老的哈扎拉歌曲。然后，爸爸和我出发，开着他的福特野马轿车--会引来艳羡的目光，因为当时有部叫《警网铁金刚》的电影在电影院已经上映了半年，主角史蒂夫·麦奎因在影片中就开这种车。哈桑留在家里，帮阿里做些杂务：用手将脏衣服洗干净，然后在院子里晾干;拖地板;去市场买刚出炉的馕饼;给晚餐准备腌肉;浇灌草坪。

　　After school, Hassan and I met up, grabbed a book, and trotted up a bowl-shaped hill justnorth of my father's property in Wazir Akbar Khan. There was an old abandoned cemetery atopthe hill with rows of unmarked headstones and tangles of brushwood clogging the aisles. Seasons of rain and snow had turned the iron gate rusty and left the cemetery's low white stonewalls in decay. There was a pomegranate tree near the entrance to the cemetery. One summerday, I used one of Ali's kitchen knives to carve our names on it: "Amir and Hassan, the sultansof Kabul. Those words made it formal: the tree was ours. After school, Hassan and I climbed itsbranches and snatched its bloodred pomegranates. After we'd eaten the fruit and wiped ourhands on the grass, I would read to Hassan.

　　放学后，我跟哈桑碰头，抓起书本，一溜小跑，爬上瓦兹尔·阿克巴·汗区那座就在爸爸房子北边的碗状山丘。山顶有久已废弃的墓园，各条小径灌木丛生，还有成排成排的空白墓碑。多年的风霜雨雪锈蚀了墓园的铁门，也让那低矮的白色石墙摇摇欲坠。墓园的入口边上有株石榴树。某个夏日，我用阿里厨房的小刀在树干刻下我们的名字:"阿米尔和哈桑，喀布尔的苏丹。"这些字正式宣告：这棵树属于我们。放学后，哈桑和我爬上它的枝桠，摘下一些血红色的石榴果实。吃过石榴，用杂草把手擦干净之后，我会念书给哈桑听。

　　Sitting cross-legged, sunlight and shadows ofpomegranate leaves dancing on his face, Hassanabsently plucked blades of grass from the ground asI read him stories he couldn't read for himself. ThatHassan would grow up illiterate like Ali and mostHazaras had been decided the minute he had beenborn, perhaps even the moment he had beenconceived in Sanaubar's unwelcoming womb--afterall, what use did a servant have for the written word? But despite his illiteracy, or maybe because of it, Hassan was drawn to the mystery of words, seducedby a secret world forbidden to him. I read him poems and stories, sometimes riddles--though Istopped reading those when I saw he was far better at solving them than I was. So I read himunchallenging things, like the misadventures of the bumbling Mullah Nasruddin and his d&111nkey. We sat for hours under that tree, sat there until the sun faded in the west, and still Hassaninsisted we had enough daylight for one more story, one more chapter.

　　哈桑盘腿坐着，阳光和石榴叶的阴影在他脸上翩翩起舞。我念那些他看不懂的故事给他听，他心不在焉地摘着地上杂草的叶片。哈桑长大后，会跟阿里和多数哈扎拉人一样，自出生之日起，甚至自莎娜芭不情不愿地怀上他那天起，就注定要成为文盲--毕竟，仆人要读书识字干吗呢?但尽管他目不识丁，兴许正因为如此，哈桑对那些谜一样的文字十分入迷，那个他无法接触的世界深深吸引了他。我给他念诗歌和故事，有时也念谜语--不过后来我不念了，因为我发现他解谜语的本领远比我高强。所以我念些不那么有挑战性的东西，比如装腔作势的纳斯鲁丁毛拉和他那头驴子出洋相的故事。我们在树下一坐就是几个钟头，直到太阳在西边黯淡下去，哈桑还会说，日光还足够亮堂，我们可以多念一个故事、多读一章。

　　My favorite part of reading to Hassan was when we came across a big word that he didn't know. I'd tease him, expose his ignorance. One time, I was reading him a Mullah Nasruddin storyand he stopped me. "What does that word mean?"

　　给哈桑念故事的时候，碰到某个他无法理解的字眼，我就十分高兴，我会取笑他，嘲弄他的无知。有一次，我给他念纳斯鲁丁毛拉的故事，他让我停下来。"那个词是什么意思?"

　　"Which one?"

　　"哪个?"

　　"Imbecile."

　　"昧。"

　　"You don't know what it means?"I said, grinning.

　　"你不知道那是什么意思吗?"我一脸坏笑地说着。

　　"Nay, Amir agha."

　　"不知道，阿米尔少爷。"

　　"But it's such a common word!"

　　"可是这个词很常见啊。"

　　"Still, I don't know it."If he felt the sting of my tease, his smiling face didn't show it.

　　"不过我还是不懂。"就算他听到我话中带刺，他也是不露声色地微笑着。

　　"Well, everyone in my school knows what it means,"I said. "Let's see. ‘Imbecile.'It meanssmart, intelligent. I'll use it in a sentence for you. ‘When it comes to words, Hassan is animbecile.'"

　　"这么说吧，在我们学校，人人都认识这个词。"我说，"让我看看,'昧'，它的意思是聪明、机灵。我可以用它来给你造句。'在读书识字方面，哈桑够昧。'"

　　"Aaah,"he said, nodding.

　　"啊哈。"他点头说。

　　I would always feel guilty about it later. So I'd try to make up for it by giving him one of myold shirts or a broken toy. I would tell myself that was amends enough for a harmless prank.

　　后来我总是对此心怀愧疚。所以我试着弥补，把旧衬衣或者破玩具送给他。我会告诉自己，对于一个无关紧要的玩笑来说，这样的补偿就足够了。

　　Hassan's favorite book by far was the _Shahnamah_, the tenth-century epic of ancient Persianheroes. He liked all of the chapters, the shahs of old, Feridoun, Zal, and Rudabeh. But hisfavorite story, and mine, was "Rostam and Sohrab,?the tale of the great warrior Rostam andhis fleet-footed horse, Rakhsh. Rostam mortally wounds his valiant nemesis, Sohrab, in battle, only to discover that Sohrab is his long-lost son. Stricken with grief, Rostam hears his son'sdying words:

　　哈桑最喜欢的书是《沙纳玛》，一部描写古代波斯英雄的10世纪的史诗。他通篇都喜欢，他喜欢那些垂垂老矣的国王：费里敦、扎尔，还有鲁达贝。但他最喜欢的故事，也是我最喜欢的，是"罗斯坦和索拉博"，讲的是神武的战士罗斯坦和他那匹千里马拉克什的故事。罗斯坦在战斗中，给予他的强敌索拉博以致命一击，最终却发现索拉博是他失散多年的儿子。罗斯坦强忍悲恸，听着他儿子的临终遗言：

　　If thou art indeed my father, then hast thou stained thy sword in the life-blood of thy son. Andthou didst it of thine obstinacy. For I sought to turn thee unto love, and I implored of thee thyname, for I thought to behold in thee the tokens recounted of my mother. But I appealed untothy heart in vain, and now is the time gone for meeting...

　　若汝果为吾父，血刃亲子，名节有亏矣。此乃汝之专横所致也。汝持先母信物，吾报汝以爱，呼汝之名，然汝心难回，吾徒费唇舌，此刻命赴黄泉……

　　"Read it again please, Amir agha,"Hassan would say. Sometimes tears pooled in Hassan's eyesas I read him this passage, and I always wondered whom he wept for, the grief-strickenRostam who tears his clothes and covers his head with ashes, or the dying Sohrab who onlylonged for his father's love? Personally, I couldn't see the tragedy in Rostam's fate. After all, didn't all fathers in their secret hearts harbor a desire to kill their sons?

　　"再念一次吧，阿米尔少爷。"哈桑会这么说。有时我给他念这段话的时候，他泪如泉涌，我总是很好奇，他到底为谁哭泣呢，为那个泪满衣襟、埋首尘灰、悲恸难当的罗斯坦，还是为即将断气、渴望得到父爱的索拉博呢?在我看来，罗斯坦的命运并非悲剧。毕竟，难道每个父亲的内心深处，不是都有想把儿子杀掉的欲望吗?

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