我有一个梦想 I Have a Dream (中英对照)

希望之星

Martin Luther King, Jr.
I Have a Dream

           

[down]http://tele.24en.com/mp3/top100speech/MLKDream_64kb.mp3
delivered 28 August 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.
1963年8月23日，马丁·路德·金组织了美国历史上影响深远的“自由进军”运动。他率领一支庞大的游行队伍向首都华盛顿进军，为全美国的黑人争取人权。他在林肯纪念堂前向25万人发表了著名的演说《我有一个梦想》，为反对种族歧视、争取平等发出呼号。马丁·路德·金1964年获诺贝尔和平奖。1968年4月4日他在田纳西州被暗杀。
在演说中，他说出了著名的平等口号：
我梦想有一天，这个国家将会奋起，实现其立国信条的真谛：“我们认为这些真理不证自明：人人生而平等。”
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."    我梦想有一天，在佐治亚州的
红色山岗上，昔日奴隶的儿子能够同昔日奴隶主的儿子同席而坐，亲如手足。
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.
我梦想有一天，我的四个孩子将生活在一个不是以肤色的深浅，而是以品格的优劣作为评判标准的国家里。
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 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 signs 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!

一百年前，一位伟大的美国人签署了解放黑奴宣言，今天我们就是在他的雕像前集会。这一庄严宣言犹如灯塔的光芒，给千百万在那摧残生命的不义之火中受煎熬的黑奴带来了希望。它的到来犹如欢乐的黎明，结束了束缚黑人的漫漫长夜。
然而一百年后的今天，黑人还没有得到自由，一百年后的今天，在种族隔离的镣铐和种族歧视的枷锁下，黑人的生活备受压榨。一百年后的今天，黑人仍生活在物质充裕的海洋中一个贫困的孤岛上。一百年后的今天，黑人仍然萎缩在美国社会的角落里，并且意识到自己是故土家园中的流亡者。今天我们在这里集会，就是要把这种骇人听闻的情况公诸于众。
我并非没有注意到，参加今天集会的人中，有些受尽苦难和折磨，有些刚刚走出窄小的牢房，有些由于寻求自由，曾早居住地惨遭疯狂迫害的打击，并在警察暴行的旋风中摇摇欲坠。你们是人为痛苦的长期受难者。坚持下去吧，要坚决相信，忍受不应得的痛苦是一种赎罪。
让我们回到密西西比去，回到阿拉巴马去，回到南卡罗莱纳去，回到佐治亚去，回到路易斯安那去，回到我们北方城市中的贫民区和少数民族居住区去，要心中有数，这种状况是能够也必将改变的。我们不要陷入绝望而不能自拔。
朋友们，今天我对你们说，在此时此刻，我们虽然遭受种种困难和挫折，我仍然有一个梦想。这个梦是深深扎根于美国的梦想中的。
我梦想有一天，这个国家会站立起来，真正实现其信条的真谛：“我们认为这些真理是不言而喻的；人人生而平等。”
我梦想有一天，在佐治亚的红山上，昔日奴隶的儿子将能够和昔日奴隶主的儿子坐在一起，共叙兄弟情谊。
我梦想有一天，甚至连密西西比州这个正义匿迹，压迫成风，如同沙漠般的地方，也将变成自由和正义的绿洲。
我梦想有一天，我的四个孩子将在一个不是以他们的肤色，而是以他们的品格优劣来评判他们的国度里生活。
我今天有一个梦想。
我梦想有一天，阿拉巴马州能够有所转变，尽管该州州长现在仍然满口异议，反对联邦法令，但有着一日，那里的黑人男孩和女孩将能够与白人男孩和女孩情同骨肉，携手并进。
我今天有一个梦想。
我梦想有一天，幽谷上升，高山下降，坎坷曲折之路成坦途，圣光披露，满照人间。
这就是我们的希望。我怀着这种信念回到南方。有了这个信念，我们将能从绝望之岭劈出一块希望之石。有了这个信念，我们将能把这个国家刺耳的争吵声，改变成为一支洋溢手足之情的优美交响曲。有了这个信念，我们将能一起工作，一起祈祷，一起斗争，一起坐牢，一起维护自由；因为我们知道，终有一天，我们是会自由的。
在自由到来的那一天，上帝的所有儿女们将以新的含义高唱这支歌：“我的祖国，美丽的自由之乡，我为您歌唱。您是父辈逝去的地方，您是最初移民的骄傲，让自由之声响彻每个山冈。”
如果美国要成为一个伟大的国家，这个梦想必须实现。让自由之声从新罕布什尔州的巍峨峰巅响起来！让自由之声从纽约州的崇山峻岭响起来！让自由之声从宾夕法尼亚州阿勒格尼山的顶峰响起！让自由之声从科罗拉多州冰雪覆盖的落矶山响起来！让自由之声从加利福尼亚州蜿蜒的群峰响起来！不仅如此，还要让自由之声从佐治亚州的石岭响起来！让自由之声从田纳西州的了望山响起来！让自由之声从密西西比州的每一座丘陵响起来！让自由之声从每一片山坡响起来。
当我们让自由之声响起来，让自由之声从每一个大小村庄、每一个州和每一个城市响起来时，我们将能够加速这一天的到来，那时，上帝的所有儿女，黑人和白人，犹太人和非犹太人，新教徒和天主教徒，都将手携手，合唱一首古老的黑人灵歌：“终于自由啦！终于自由啦！感谢全能的上帝，我们终于自由啦！”