我有一個夢想

 

1963年8月28日《我有一個夢想》——Martin Luther King, Jr.
　　今天，我很高興和大家一起參加這個即將成為歷史上為了爭取自由而舉行的偉大示威。
　　100年前，一位偉大的美國人——今天，我們就站在他象徵性的身影下——簽署了《解放黑奴宣言》。這項重要法令的頒布，對於千百萬受非正義殘焰煎熬的黑奴來說，猶如帶來了希望之光的碩大燈塔，恰似結束漫漫長夜禁錮的歡暢黎明。
　　然而，100年後，黑人依然沒有獲得自由；100年後，黑人依然悲慘地蹣跚在島上；100年後，黑人依然在美國社會中向偶而泣，依然感到自己在國土家園中漂泊流離。所以，我們今天來到這裡，要把這駭人聽聞的情況公諸於世。
　　從某種意義上來說，我們來到國家的首都是為了兌現一張支票，我們共和國的締造者在擬寫憲法和獨立宣言的輝煌篇章時，就簽定了一張每一個美國人都能繼承的支票。這張支票向所有人承諾——不論白人還是黑人，都享有不可剝奪的生存權、自由權和追求幸福權。
　　然而，今天的美國顯然對他的有色公民拖欠著這張支票。美國沒有兌現這筆神聖的債務，而是開給黑人一張空頭支票——打著「資金不足」戳印被退回的支票。但是，我們絕不相信正義的銀行會破產，我們絕不相信這個國家的巨大機會寶庫會資金不足。
　　因此，我們來兌現這張支票——這張支票將給我們寶貴的自由和正義的保障。
　　我們來到這塊聖地還為了提醒美國：現在正是萬分緊急的時刻，現在不是從容不迫悠然行事或服用漸進主義鎮定劑的時候，現在是走出幽暗荒涼的種族隔離深谷，踏上充滿手足之情的磐石的時刻；現在是使上帝的所有孩子真正享有公正的時刻。
　　忽視這一時刻的急迫性，對於國家來說將會是致命的。自由平等的朗朗秋日不到來，黑人順情合理哀怨的酷暑就不會過去。西元1963年不是一個結束，而是一個開端。
　　如果國家依然我行我素，那些希望黑人只需出出氣就會心滿意足的人將大失所望。在黑人得到公民權之前，美國既不會安寧，也不會平靜。反抗的旋風將繼續震撼我們國家的基石，直至光輝燦爛的正義之日來臨。
　　但是，對於站在通向正義之殿艱險門檻的人們，有一些話我必須要說。在我們爭取合法地位的過程中，切不要錯誤行事而導致犯罪，我們切不要吞飲仇恨辛酸的苦酒，來解除對於自由的饑渴。
　　我們應該永遠得體地、紀律嚴明地進行抗爭，不該容許富有創造性的抗議淪為暴力行動，我們應該不斷昇華，達到用靈魂力量對付肉體力量的崇高境界。
　　席捲黑人社會的新的奇蹟的戰鬥精神，不應導致我們對所有白人的不信任——因為許多白人兄弟己經體認到：他們的命運與我們的命運緊密相連，他們的自由和我們的自由休戚相關，他們今天來到這裡集會就是明證。
　　我們不能單獨行動。當我們行動時，必須勇往直前，不能後退。有人問熱心民權運動的人說：「你們什麼時候會感到滿意？」只要黑人依舊是不堪形容的警察恐怖暴行下的犧牲品，我們就不會感到滿意；只要我們在旅途勞頓後，卻被公路旁的汽車旅社或城市旅館拒於門外，我們就不會滿意；只要黑人的基本活動範圍只限於從狹小的黑人居住區到較大的黑人居住區，我們就不會滿意；只要我們的孩子被「僅供白人」的牌子剝奪個性、損毀尊嚴，我們就絕不會滿意；只要密西西比州的黑人不能參加選舉，紐約州的黑人認為他們與選舉毫不相干，我們就絕不會滿意。不，不，我們不會滿意，直到公正似水奔流，正義如泉噴湧。
　　我並非沒有注意到，你們有些人歷盡艱苦來到這裡；你們有些人剛剛走出狹小的牢房；有些人來自因追求自由而遭受迫害風暴襲擊和警察暴虐狂飆的地區。你們飽經風霜，歷盡苦難。繼續努力吧！要相信無辜受苦終得拯救。
　　回到密西西比去吧；回到阿拉巴馬去吧；回到南卡羅萊納去吧；回到喬治亞去吧；回到路易斯安那去吧（這是美國種族歧視最嚴重的五個州）；回到我們北方城市中的貧民窟和黑人居住區去吧。要知道，這種情況能夠而且將會改變，我們切不要在絕望的深淵沉淪。
　　朋友們，今天我要對你們說，儘管眼前困難重重，但我但然懷有一個夢，這個夢深深植根於美國夢之中。
　　我夢想有一天，這個國家會奮起，實現其立國信條的真諦，我們認為這些真理不言而喻；人人生而平等（引自《獨立宣言》）。
　　我夢想有一天，在喬治亞州的紅色山崗上，昔日奴隸的兒子能夠與昔日奴隸主的兒子平起平坐，親如手足。
　　我夢想有一天，甚至連密密西比州——非正義和充滿壓迫的荒漠之洲，也會改造成自由、公正的青青綠洲。
　　我夢想有一天，我的四個小兒女將生活在一個不是以皮膚顏色，而是以品行的優劣作為評判標準的國家裡。
　　我今天懷有一個夢。
　　我夢想有一天，阿拉巴馬州會有所改變——儘管該州州長現在仍滔滔不絕地說什麼要對聯邦法令提出異議和拒絕執行——在那裡，黑人兒童能夠與白人兒童猶如兄弟姐妹般地攜手並行。
　　我今天懷有一個夢。
　　我夢想有一天，深谷彌合，高山夷平，崎路化為坦途，曲徑成為通衢，上帝的光華再現，普天下生靈共謁。
　　這是我們的希望。這是我將帶回南方去的信念。有了這個信念，我們就能從絕望之山開採希望之石；有了這個信念，我們就能把這個國家嘈雜刺耳的爭吵聲，變為充滿手足之情的悅耳交響曲；有了這個信念，我們就能一同工作，一同祈禱、一同抗爭、一同入獄、一同維護自由。因為我們知道——我們終有一天會獲得自由。
　　到了這一天，上帝的所有孩子都能以新的含意高唱這道歌：
　　我的祖國，可愛的自由之邦，我為您歌唱。這是我祖先終老的地方，這是早期移民自豪的地方，讓自由之聲，響徹每一座山崗。
　　（這首《亞美利加》在南北戰爭時期的北方是國歌地位，直到1931年國會通過《星條旗》才成為正式國歌。）
　　如果美國要成為偉大的國家，這一點必須實現。因此，讓自由之聲響徹新罕布夏州的巍峨高峰！
　　讓自由之聲響徹紐約州的崇山峻嶺！
　　讓自由之聲響徹賓夕法尼亞州的阿勒格尼高峰！
　　讓自由之聲響徹科羅拉多州冰雪皚皚的洛磯山！
　　讓自由之聲響徹加州的婀娜群峰！
　　不，不僅如此；讓自由之聲響徹喬治亞州的石山！
　　讓自由之聲響徹田納西州的瞭望山！
　　讓自由之聲響徹密西西比州的一座座山，峰一個個土丘！
　　讓自由之聲響徹每一座山崗！
　　當我們讓自由之聲轟響，當我們讓自由之聲響徹每一個大村小莊、每一個州府城鎮，我們就能加速這一天的到來。那時，上帝的所有孩子——黑人和白人，猶太教和非猶太教徒，基督教徒和天主教徒，將能攜手同唱那首古老的黑人靈歌：「終於自由了！終於自由了！感謝全能的上帝，我們終於自由了！」
　　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 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."
　　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."?
　　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!