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正文
从马丁·路德·金——到——奥巴马：我有一个梦（组图）
马丁·路德·金：我有一个梦
马丁·路德·金：我有一个梦
1963年8月28日
1963 年8月28日，逾二十万美国人聚集于美国首都，为全体人民同享公正在林肯纪念堂和华盛顿纪念馆之间的林荫道上以和平集会方式举行示威。在当天激动人心的演说中，小马丁·路德·金的《我有一个梦》这篇演讲尤其扣人心弦。他用高昂雄辩的言语自觉地将宗教修辞与人们耳熟能详的爱国主义象征熔为一炉，表达了一种对理想世界的预言和振奋人心的观念。这篇《我有一个梦》演说词作为对民权运动目标的精辟阐述迅速进入了美国语言和全民意识。
一百年以前，一位伟大的美国人——我们就站在他象征性的庇荫下——签署了解放宣言。这一重要的法令犹如灯塔把辉煌的希望之光带给千百万饱受屈辱、处于水深火热中的黑人。它就像欢快的黎明来临，结束了奴隶被囚禁的漫漫长夜。
一百年以前，一位伟大的美国人——我们就站在他象征性的庇荫下——签署了解放宣言。这一重要的法令犹如灯塔把辉煌的希望之光带给千百万饱受屈辱、处于水深火热中的黑人。它就像欢快的黎明来临，结束了奴隶被囚禁的漫漫长夜。
然而一百年后的今天，我们不能不面对这一悲剧性的事实，即黑人仍未获得自由。一百年后的今天，黑人的生命仍惨遭种族隔离桎梏和种族歧视枷锁的束缚。一百年后的今天，黑人仍生活在物质繁荣的汪洋大海所包围的贫穷孤岛上。一百年后的今天，黑人仍蜷缩在美国社会的偏僻角落，感到自己是自己国家里的流放者。因此我们今天来到这里以引起人们对一种骇人听闻的情况的注意。
在某种意义上，我们来到我国首都是为着兑支票。当我们共和国的创建者们写下宪法和独立宣言时，他们也就签署了一份期票，每个美国人都有它的继承权。这期票是一种许诺，保证给予每一个人不可转让的生活、自由和追求幸福的权利。
显而易见，今天美国在关系到她有色人种公民的问题上已对这份期票违约。美国没有承兑这一神圣的契约，而是给黑人一张空头支票；该支票被写上“存款不足”退回。但是我们不相信正义的银行已破产。我们不相信这个国家机会的金库中已存款不足。所以我们来此兑支票—一这支票将按要求给予我们自由的财富和公正的保障。
我们来到这神圣的地点，也是为了提醒美国记住现在极端紧迫的任务。目前不是享受一下清静或服用渐进主义镇静剂的时候。现在该实现民主的许诺了。现在该从种族隔离黑暗荒凉的峡谷走上种族公平的金光大道了。现在该向上帝所有的孩子们打开机会的大门了。现在该把我国从种族歧视的流沙中救出，置于兄弟情谊的坚硬岩石之上了。
倘若这个国家忽视了此刻紧迫的形势，低估了黑人的决心，那将造成致命的后果。这一黑人合理不满的闷热夏季将不会过去，直到自由平等的爽朗秋季来临。一九六三年不是终结，而是开端。倘若国家一如既往恢复原样，那些希望黑人只是需要出出气，现在可以满意的人将会大失所望。美国将没有安宁和平静，除非黑人获得了他们的公民权。反抗的旋风将继续震撼我们国家的基础，直到公正的晴天出现。
但有件事我得告诉我的站在通向公正之宫温暖入口的人民。在争取我们合法地位的斗争过程中，我们不应干违法之事。我们切莫端起苦涩和仇恨的杯子来满足自己对自由的渴求。我们必须永远在尊严的纪律的高水平上开展斗争。我们决不能让我们创造性的抗议堕落成为暴力行动。我们必须一次又一次升华到用精神力量对付武力的崇高境界。
黑人社区洋溢着崭新的战斗精神不应导致我们对一切白人都不信任，因为我们许多白人弟兄，正如他们今天的到场所证明的，已意识到他们的自由与我们的自由血肉相连，不可分割。我们不能独自行进。
我们一旦起步，就必须发誓勇往直前。我们不能往回走。有人这样问民权运动的忠实斗士：“你们何时才能满足？”
只要黑人仍是警察暴行难以形容的恐怖的受害者，我们就决不会满足。
只要我们虽经旅途奔波浑身疲乏仍无法在公路或城市中租用汽车游客旅馆，我们就决不会满足。
只要黑人的基本流动方式只是从一处较小的黑人区迁到一处较大的黑人区，我们就决不会满足。
只要密西西比州有一个黑人不能投票，只要纽约有一个黑人认为没有什么东西值得他去投票，我们就不会满足。
是的，我们不满足，而且我们将永不满足，直到公正如洪水，正义如激流滚滚而来。
我不能不注意到，你们有些人经历了巨大的痛苦和磨难来到这里。你们有些人刚从狭窄的牢房出来。你们有些人来自某些地区，在那里你们因争取自由惨遭迫害，被警察的暴行所摧残。你们已是为创造而受苦的老战士。继续怀着这一信念工作吧：并非由自己招致的苦难将带来补偿。
回密西西比去，回亚拉巴马去，回南卡罗来纳去，回佐治亚去，回路易斯安那去，回到我们北方城市的贫民窟和黑人区去，既然你们知道因某种原因形势可能而且必将发生变化。我们且莫在绝望的山谷中打滚。
我今天对你们说，我的朋友们，尽管眼下困难重重，颇多挫折，我仍然有一个梦。它深深植根于美国梦。
我梦见总有一天这个国家将站立起来，实现它的信条的真谛：“我们认为这些真理不言自明：人人生而平等。”
我梦见有一天在佐治亚的红山上，原先的奴隶的儿子们与原先奴隶主的儿子们坐在一张桌子旁共叙手足情。
我梦见有一天甚至密西西比州遭不公正和压迫的酷热煎熬的沙漠将变成自由和公正的绿洲。
我梦见有一天自己的四个孩子将生活在一个国家，在那里人们对他们的评价不是根据肤色，而是根据品格。
我今天有一个梦。
我梦见有一天亚拉巴马州——其州长最近大谈干预，鼓吹拒绝执行国会的法令——将会大变样，黑人儿童与白人儿童携手并肩，亲如手足。
我今天有一个梦。
我梦见有一天每一条山谷都升高，每一座山头都降低，地势崎岖的地方变得平坦，弯弯曲曲的地带变得笔直，而上帝的光辉得以展现，让所有的人都看见。
这是我们的希望。正是怀着这一信念我回南方。怀着这信念我们将能从绝望的大山中开凿出希望的石块。怀着这信念我们将能把我国的一片嘈杂吵闹声变为一曲华丽的兄弟情谊的交响乐。
怀着这信念，我们将能够一起工作，一起祈祷，一起斗争，一起入狱，一起为自由挺身而出，因为我们知道有一天我们将会自由。
那将是这样的一天，届时上帝所有的孩子将能唱出新的意义：“你是我的祖国，美好的自由之邦，我要为你歌唱。父辈葬身之处，移民夸耀之土，让我自由之声，响彻每个山冈。”
如果美国要成为一个伟大的国家，这就必须变成现实。让自由从新罕布什尔的崇山峻岭响起。让自由从宾夕法尼亚高高阿勒格尼山响起！
让自由从科罗拉多白雪覆盖的落矶山脉响起！让自由从加利福尼亚透迤的群山响起！不仅如此，还要让自由从佐治亚的石山上响起！让自由从田纳西的卢考特山响起！
让自由从密西西比每座山头和小丘响起。让自由从每一处山腰响起。
当我们让自由鸣响，让自由从每一座村庄响起，从每一个州和每一个城市响起，我们就能使这一天更快来临，那时上帝所有的孩子们，不论是黑人还是白人，犹太人还是非犹太人，新教徒还是天主教徒，都将手拉着手高唱一首古老的黑人圣歌的歌词：“终于自由了！终于自由了！感谢万能的上帝，我们终于自由了！”
英文原文：
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. *We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by a sign stating: "For Whites Only."* We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."²
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. *We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by a sign stating: "For Whites Only."* We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream."¹
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."²
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of
Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!³
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Text within asterisks was added on 3/31/06. Credit Randy Mayeux for bringing the omissions to my attention.
¹ Amos 5:24 (rendered precisely in The American Standard Version of the Holy Bible)
² Isaiah 40:4-5 (King James Version of the Holy Bible). Quotation marks are excluded from part of this moment in the text because King's rendering of Isaiah 40:4 does not precisely follow the KJV version from which he quotes (e.g., "hill" and "mountain" are reversed in the KJV). King's rendering of Isaiah 40:5, however, is precisely quoted from the KJV.
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