華閱文章網1.《我有一個夢想》原文
I HAVE A DREAM Aug.28, 1963 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 bad 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. So we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition. 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. Some of you have come from areas where your 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, 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, live up to 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 children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color if 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 governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, one day right down 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, 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. 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. 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 pilgrims' pride, From every mountainside Let freedom ring. And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. 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 snowcapped Rockies of Colorado! Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slops 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! When we let 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! 。
2.《我有一個夢想》原文
I HAVE A DREAM Aug.28, 1963 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 bad 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. So we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition. 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. Some of you have come from areas where your 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, 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, live up to 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 children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color if 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 governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, one day right down 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, 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. 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. 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 pilgrims' pride, From every mountainside Let freedom ring. And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. 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 snowcapped Rockies of Colorado! Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slops 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! When we let 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! fr。
3.我有一個夢想馬丁路德金全文
Martin Luther King, Jr. 馬丁。
路德金 I have a dream 我有一個夢想 一百年前，一位偉大的美國人簽署了解放黑奴宣言，今天我們就是在他的雕像前集會。這一莊嚴宣言猶如燈塔的光芒，給千百萬在那摧殘生命的不義之火中受煎熬的黑奴帶來了希望。
它的到來猶如歡樂的黎明，結束了束縛黑人的漫漫長夜。 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 bad captivity. 然而一百年后的今天，黑人還沒有得到自由，一百年后的今天，在種族隔離的鐐銬和種族歧視的枷鎖下，黑人的生活備受壓榨。
一百年后的今天，黑人仍生活在物質充裕的海洋中一個貧困的孤島上。一百年后的今天，黑人仍然萎縮在美國社會的角落里，并且意識到自己是故土家園中的流亡者。
今天我們在這里集會，就是要把這種駭人聽聞的情況公諸于眾。 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. So we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition. 我并非沒有注意到，參加今天集會的人中，有些受盡苦難和折磨，有些剛剛走出窄小的牢房，有些由于尋求自由，曾早居住地慘遭瘋狂迫害的打擊，并在警察暴行的旋風中搖搖欲墜。
你們是人為痛苦的長期受難者。堅持下去吧，要堅決相信，忍受不應得的痛苦是一種贖罪。
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. Some of you have come from areas where your 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. 讓我們回到密西西比去，回到阿拉巴馬去，回到南卡羅萊納去，回到佐治亞去，回到路易斯安那去，回到我們北方城市中的貧民區和少數民族居住區去，要心中有數，這種狀況是能夠也必將改變的。我們不要陷入絕望而不能自拔。
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. 朋友們，今天我對你們說，在此時此刻，我們雖然遭受種種困難和挫折，我仍然有一個夢想。這個夢是深深扎根于美國的夢想中的。
I say to you today, my friends, 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. 我夢想有一天，這個國家會站立起來，真正實現其信條的真諦：“我們認為這些真理是不言而喻的；人人生而平等。” I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up, live up to the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident; that all men are created equal.” 我夢想有一天，在佐治亞的紅山上，昔日奴隸的兒子將能夠和昔日奴隸主的兒子坐在一起，共敘兄弟情誼。
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. 我夢想有一天，甚至連密西西比州這個正義匿跡，壓迫成風，如同沙漠般的地方，也將變成自由和正義的綠洲。 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. 我夢想有一天，我的四個孩子將在一個不是以他們的膚色，而是以他們的品格優劣來評判他們的國度里生活。
I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color if their skin but by the content of their character. 我今天有一個夢想。 我夢想有一天，阿拉巴馬州能夠有所轉變，盡管該州州長現在仍然滿口異議，反對聯邦法令，但有著一日，那里的黑人男孩和女孩將能夠與白人男孩和女孩情同骨肉，攜手并進。
I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day down in Alabama with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, one day right down in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys 。
4.馬丁路德金 我有一個夢想 原文一句翻譯一句
我夢想有一天，這個國家將會奮起，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。”
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." 我夢想有一天，在佐治亞州的紅色山崗上，昔日奴隸的兒子能夠同昔日奴隸主的兒子同席而坐，親如手足。 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. 我夢想有一天，我的四個孩子將生活在一個不是以膚色的深淺，而是以品格的優劣作為評判標準的國家里。
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. 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 bad 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. So we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition. 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. Some of you have come from areas where your 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, 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, live up to 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 children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color if 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 governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, one day right down 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, 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. 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. 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 pilgrims' pride, From every mountainside Let freedom ring. And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let 。
5.尋求萌芽發表的《我有一個夢想》的原文
今天，我高興地同大家一起，參加這次將成為我國歷史上為了爭取自由而舉行的最偉大的示威集會。
100年前，一位偉大的美國人--今天我們就站在他象征性的身影下--簽署了《解放宣言》。這項重要法令的頒布，對于千百萬灼烤于非正義殘焰中的黑奴，猶如帶來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年后，黑人依然沒有獲得自由。100年后，黑人依然悲慘地蹣跚于種族隔離和種族歧視的枷鎖之下。
100年后，黑人依然生活在物質繁榮翰海的貧困孤島上。100年后，黑人依然在美國社會中間向隅而泣，依然感到自己在國土家園中流離漂泊。
所以，我們今天來到這里，要把這駭人聽聞的情況公諸于眾。 從某種意義上說，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，就簽署了一張每一個美國人都能繼承的期票。這張期票向所有人承諾--不論白人還是黑人--都享有不可讓渡的生存權、自由權和追求幸福權。
然而，今天美國顯然對她的有色公民拖欠著這張期票。美國沒有承兌這筆神圣的債務，而是開始給黑人一張空頭支票--一張蓋著"資金不足"的印戳被退回的支票。
但是，我們決不相信正義的銀行會破產。我們決不相信這個國家巨大的機會寶庫會資金不足。
因此，我們來兌現這張支票。這張支票將給我們以寶貴的自由和正義的保障。
我們來到這塊圣地還為了提醒美國：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靜劑的時候。
現在是實現民主諾言的時候。現在是走出幽暗荒涼的種族隔離深谷，踏上種族平等的陽關大道的時候。
現在是使我們國家走出種族不平等的流沙，踏上充滿手足之情的磐石的時候。現在是使上帝所有孩子真正享有公正的時候。
忽視這一時刻的緊迫性，對于國家將會是致命的。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。
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，對于站在通向正義之宮艱險門檻上的人們，有一些話我必須要說。在我們爭取合法地位的過程中，切不要錯誤行事導致犯罪。
我們切不要吞飲仇恨辛酸的苦酒，來解除對于自由的飲渴。 我們應該永遠得體地、紀律嚴明地進行斗爭。
我們不能容許我們富有創造性的抗議淪為暴力行動。我們應該不斷升華到用靈魂力量對付肉體力量的崇高境界。
席卷黑人社會的新的奇跡般的戰斗精神，不應導致我們對所有白人的不信任--因為許多白人兄弟已經認識到：他們的命運同我們的命運緊密相連，他們的自由同我們的自由休戚相關。他們今天來到這里參加集會就是明證。
我們不能單獨行動。當我們行動時，我們必須保證勇往直前。
我們不能后退。有人問熱心民權運動的人："你們什么時候會感到滿意？"只要黑人依然是不堪形容的警察暴行恐怖的犧牲品，我們就決不會滿意。
只要我們在旅途勞頓后，卻被公路旁汽車游客旅社和城市旅館拒之門外，我們就決不會滿意。只要黑人的基本活動范圍只限于從狹小的黑人居住區到較大的黑人居住區，我們就決不會滿意。
只要我們的孩子被"僅供白人"的牌子剝奪個性，損毀尊嚴，我們就決不會滿意。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，我們就決不會滿意。
不，不，我們不會滿意，直至公正似水奔流，正義如泉噴涌。 我并非沒有注意到你們有些人歷盡艱難困苦來到這里。
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摧殘的地區。
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；回到亞拉巴馬去吧；回到南卡羅來納去吧；回到佐治亞去吧；回到路易斯安那去吧；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里沉淪。 朋友們，今天我要對你們說，盡管眼下困難重重，但我依然懷有一個夢。
這個夢深深植根于美國夢之中。 我夢想有一天，這個國家將會奮起，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。
" 我夢想有一天，在佐治亞州的紅色山崗上，昔日奴隸的兒子能夠同昔日奴隸主的兒子同席而坐，親如手足。 我夢想有一天，甚至連密西西比州--一個非正義和壓迫的熱浪逼人的荒漠之州，也會改造成為自由和公正的青青綠洲。
我夢想有一天，我的四個小女兒將生活在一個不是以皮膚的顏色，而是以品格的優劣作為評判標準的國家里。 我今天懷有一個夢。
我夢想有一天，亞拉巴馬州會有所改變--盡管該州州長現在仍滔滔不絕地說什么要對聯邦法令提出異議和拒絕執行--在那里，黑人兒童能夠和白人兒童兄弟姐妹般地攜手并行。 我今天懷有一個夢。
我夢想有一天，深谷彌合，高山夷平，歧路化坦途，曲徑成通衢，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。
6.我有一個夢想原文
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand 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 captivity. But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still 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 languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition. In a sense we have 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 would be guaranteed the inalienable 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 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. So we have 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 rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. 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. 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. 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 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 their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall 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 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 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 。
7.我有一個夢想馬丁路德金全文
Martin Luther King, Jr. 馬丁。
路德金 I have a dream 我有一個夢想 一百年前，一位偉大的美國人簽署了解放黑奴宣言，今天我們就是在他的雕像前集會。這一莊嚴宣言猶如燈塔的光芒，給千百萬在那摧殘生命的不義之火中受煎熬的黑奴帶來了希望。
它的到來猶如歡樂的黎明，結束了束縛黑人的漫漫長夜。 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 bad captivity. 然而一百年后的今天，黑人還沒有得到自由，一百年后的今天，在種族隔離的鐐銬和種族歧視的枷鎖下，黑人的生活備受壓榨。
一百年后的今天，黑人仍生活在物質充裕的海洋中一個貧困的孤島上。一百年后的今天，黑人仍然萎縮在美國社會的角落里，并且意識到自己是故土家園中的流亡者。
今天我們在這里集會，就是要把這種駭人聽聞的情況公諸于眾。 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. So we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition. 我并非沒有注意到，參加今天集會的人中，有些受盡苦難和折磨，有些剛剛走出窄小的牢房，有些由于尋求自由，曾早居住地慘遭瘋狂迫害的打擊，并在警察暴行的旋風中搖搖欲墜。
你們是人為痛苦的長期受難者。堅持下去吧，要堅決相信，忍受不應得的痛苦是一種贖罪。
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. Some of you have come from areas where your 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. 讓我們回到密西西比去，回到阿拉巴馬去，回到南卡羅萊納去，回到佐治亞去，回到路易斯安那去，回到我們北方城市中的貧民區和少數民族居住區去，要心中有數，這種狀況是能夠也必將改變的。我們不要陷入絕望而不能自拔。
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. 朋友們，今天我對你們說，在此時此刻，我們雖然遭受種種困難和挫折，我仍然有一個夢想。這個夢是深深扎根于美國的夢想中的。
I say to you today, my friends, 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. 我夢想有一天，這個國家會站立起來，真正實現其信條的真諦：“我們認為這些真理是不言而喻的；人人生而平等。” I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up, live up to the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident; that all men are created equal.” 我夢想有一天，在佐治亞的紅山上，昔日奴隸的兒子將能夠和昔日奴隸主的兒子坐在一起，共敘兄弟情誼。
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. 我夢想有一天，甚至連密西西比州這個正義匿跡，壓迫成風，如同沙漠般的地方，也將變成自由和正義的綠洲。 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. 我夢想有一天，我的四個孩子將在一個不是以他們的膚色，而是以他們的品格優劣來評判他們的國度里生活。
I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color if their skin but by the content of their character. 我今天有一個夢想。 我夢想有一天，阿拉巴馬州能夠有所轉變，盡管該州州長現在仍然滿口異議，反對聯邦法令，但有著一日，那里的黑人男孩和女孩將能夠與白人男孩和女孩情同骨肉，攜手并進。
I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day down in Alabama with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, one day right down in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with 。
8.我有一個夢想原文
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand 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 captivity. But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still 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 languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition. In a sense we have 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 would be guaranteed the inalienable 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 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. So we have 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 rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. 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. 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. 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 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 their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall 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 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 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 。
9.我有一個夢想原文
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand 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 captivity. But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still 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 languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition. In a sense we have 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 would be guaranteed the inalienable 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 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. So we have 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 rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. 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. 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. 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 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 their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall 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 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 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 。
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