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正文
從馬丁·路德·金——到——奧巴馬：我有一個夢（組圖）
馬丁·路德·金：我有一個夢
馬丁·路德·金：我有一個夢
1963年8月28日
1963 年8月28日，逾二十萬美國人聚集於美國首都，為全體人民同享公正在林肯紀念堂和華盛頓紀念館之間的林蔭道上以和平集會方式舉行示威。在當天激動人心的演說中，小馬丁·路德·金的《我有一個夢》這篇演講尤其扣人心弦。他用高昂雄辯的言語自覺地將宗教修辭與人們耳熟能詳的愛國主義象征熔為一爐，表達了一種對理想世界的預言和振奮人心的觀念。這篇《我有一個夢》演說詞作為對民權運動目標的精辟闡述迅速進入了美國語言和全民意識。
一百年以前，一位偉大的美國人——我們就站在他象征性的庇蔭下——簽署了解放宣言。這一重要的法令猶如燈塔把輝煌的希望之光帶給千百萬飽受屈辱、處於水深火熱中的黑人。它就像歡快的黎明來臨，結束了奴隸被囚禁的漫漫長夜。
一百年以前，一位偉大的美國人——我們就站在他象征性的庇蔭下——簽署了解放宣言。這一重要的法令猶如燈塔把輝煌的希望之光帶給千百萬飽受屈辱、處於水深火熱中的黑人。它就像歡快的黎明來臨，結束了奴隸被囚禁的漫漫長夜。
然而一百年後的今天，我們不能不麵對這一悲劇性的事實，即黑人仍未獲得自由。一百年後的今天，黑人的生命仍慘遭種族隔離桎梏和種族歧視枷鎖的束縛。一百年後的今天，黑人仍生活在物質繁榮的汪洋大海所包圍的貧窮孤島上。一百年後的今天，黑人仍蜷縮在美國社會的偏僻角落，感到自己是自己國家裏的流放者。因此我們今天來到這裏以引起人們對一種駭人聽聞的情況的注意。
在某種意義上，我們來到我國首都是為著兌支票。當我們共和國的創建者們寫下憲法和獨立宣言時，他們也就簽署了一份期票，每個美國人都有它的繼承權。這期票是一種許諾，保證給予每一個人不可轉讓的生活、自由和追求幸福的權利。
顯而易見，今天美國在關係到她有色人種公民的問題上已對這份期票違約。美國沒有承兌這一神聖的契約，而是給黑人一張空頭支票；該支票被寫上“存款不足”退回。但是我們不相信正義的銀行已破產。我們不相信這個國家機會的金庫中已存款不足。所以我們來此兌支票—一這支票將按要求給予我們自由的財富和公正的保障。
我們來到這神聖的地點，也是為了提醒美國記住現在極端緊迫的任務。目前不是享受一下清靜或服用漸進主義鎮靜劑的時候。現在該實現民主的許諾了。現在該從種族隔離黑暗荒涼的峽穀走上種族公平的金光大道了。現在該向上帝所有的孩子們打開機會的大門了。現在該把我國從種族歧視的流沙中救出，置於兄弟情誼的堅硬岩石之上了。
倘若這個國家忽視了此刻緊迫的形勢，低估了黑人的決心，那將造成致命的後果。這一黑人合理不滿的悶熱夏季將不會過去，直到自由平等的爽朗秋季來臨。一九六三年不是終結，而是開端。倘若國家一如既往恢複原樣，那些希望黑人隻是需要出出氣，現在可以滿意的人將會大失所望。美國將沒有安寧和平靜，除非黑人獲得了他們的公民權。反抗的旋風將繼續震撼我們國家的基礎，直到公正的晴天出現。
但有件事我得告訴我的站在通向公正之宮溫暖入口的人民。在爭取我們合法地位的鬥爭過程中，我們不應幹違法之事。我們切莫端起苦澀和仇恨的杯子來滿足自己對自由的渴求。我們必須永遠在尊嚴的紀律的高水平上開展鬥爭。我們決不能讓我們創造性的抗議墮落成為暴力行動。我們必須一次又一次升華到用精神力量對付武力的崇高境界。
黑人社區洋溢著嶄新的戰鬥精神不應導致我們對一切白人都不信任，因為我們許多白人弟兄，正如他們今天的到場所證明的，已意識到他們的自由與我們的自由血肉相連，不可分割。我們不能獨自行進。
我們一旦起步，就必須發誓勇往直前。我們不能往回走。有人這樣問民權運動的忠實鬥士：“你們何時才能滿足？”
隻要黑人仍是警察暴行難以形容的恐怖的受害者，我們就決不會滿足。
隻要我們雖經旅途奔波渾身疲乏仍無法在公路或城市中租用汽車遊客旅館，我們就決不會滿足。
隻要黑人的基本流動方式隻是從一處較小的黑人區遷到一處較大的黑人區，我們就決不會滿足。
隻要密西西比州有一個黑人不能投票，隻要紐約有一個黑人認為沒有什麽東西值得他去投票，我們就不會滿足。
是的，我們不滿足，而且我們將永不滿足，直到公正如洪水，正義如激流滾滾而來。
我不能不注意到，你們有些人經曆了巨大的痛苦和磨難來到這裏。你們有些人剛從狹窄的牢房出來。你們有些人來自某些地區，在那裏你們因爭取自由慘遭迫害，被警察的暴行所摧殘。你們已是為創造而受苦的老戰士。繼續懷著這一信念工作吧：並非由自己招致的苦難將帶來補償。
回密西西比去，回亞拉巴馬去，回南卡羅來納去，回佐治亞去，回路易斯安那去，回到我們北方城市的貧民窟和黑人區去，既然你們知道因某種原因形勢可能而且必將發生變化。我們且莫在絕望的山穀中打滾。
我今天對你們說，我的朋友們，盡管眼下困難重重，頗多挫折，我仍然有一個夢。它深深植根於美國夢。
我夢見總有一天這個國家將站立起來，實現它的信條的真諦：“我們認為這些真理不言自明：人人生而平等。”
我夢見有一天在佐治亞的紅山上，原先的奴隸的兒子們與原先奴隸主的兒子們坐在一張桌子旁共敘手足情。
我夢見有一天甚至密西西比州遭不公正和壓迫的酷熱煎熬的沙漠將變成自由和公正的綠洲。
我夢見有一天自己的四個孩子將生活在一個國家，在那裏人們對他們的評價不是根據膚色，而是根據品格。
我今天有一個夢。
我夢見有一天亞拉巴馬州——其州長最近大談幹預，鼓吹拒絕執行國會的法令——將會大變樣，黑人兒童與白人兒童攜手並肩，親如手足。
我今天有一個夢。
我夢見有一天每一條山穀都升高，每一座山頭都降低，地勢崎嶇的地方變得平坦，彎彎曲曲的地帶變得筆直，而上帝的光輝得以展現，讓所有的人都看見。
這是我們的希望。正是懷著這一信念我回南方。懷著這信念我們將能從絕望的大山中開鑿出希望的石塊。懷著這信念我們將能把我國的一片嘈雜吵鬧聲變為一曲華麗的兄弟情誼的交響樂。
懷著這信念，我們將能夠一起工作，一起祈禱，一起鬥爭，一起入獄，一起為自由挺身而出，因為我們知道有一天我們將會自由。
那將是這樣的一天，屆時上帝所有的孩子將能唱出新的意義：“你是我的祖國，美好的自由之邦，我要為你歌唱。父輩葬身之處，移民誇耀之土，讓我自由之聲，響徹每個山岡。”
如果美國要成為一個偉大的國家，這就必須變成現實。讓自由從新罕布什爾的崇山峻嶺響起。讓自由從賓夕法尼亞高高阿勒格尼山響起！
讓自由從科羅拉多白雪覆蓋的落磯山脈響起！讓自由從加利福尼亞透迤的群山響起！不僅如此，還要讓自由從佐治亞的石山上響起！讓自由從田納西的盧考特山響起！
讓自由從密西西比每座山頭和小丘響起。讓自由從每一處山腰響起。
當我們讓自由鳴響，讓自由從每一座村莊響起，從每一個州和每一個城市響起，我們就能使這一天更快來臨，那時上帝所有的孩子們，不論是黑人還是白人，猶太人還是非猶太人，新教徒還是天主教徒，都將手拉著手高唱一首古老的黑人聖歌的歌詞：“終於自由了！終於自由了！感謝萬能的上帝，我們終於自由了！”
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
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*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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