ผมมีความฝัน - โดยมาร์ติน ลูเธอร์ คิง (Martin
Luther King)
ภาพ สุนทรพจน์ I have a dream โดย Martin Luther King 28 สิงหาคม ค.ศ. 1963
'I have a dream'
ในวันที่ 28 สิงหาคม ค.ศ. 1963 มาร์ติน ลูเธอร์
คิง (Martin Luther King) ได้กล่าวสุนทรพจน์ที่ยอดเยี่ยม
ชื่อว่า “I have a dream speech” ณ
เชิงอนุสรณ์สถานประธานาธิบดีลินคอล์น (Lincoln Memorial) ในกรุงวอชิงตัน
ดีซี ต่อไปนี้เป็นการถอดความจากสุนทรพจน์ประวัติศาสตร์นี้ฉบับสมบูรณ์
ต่อหน้าบุคคลที่ได้เข้าร่วมเดินขบวนเพื่อต่อต้านการแบ่งแยกผิว
จำนวนกว่า 200,000 คน มาร์ติน ลูเธอร์ คิง ได้กล่าวดังนี้
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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, 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 100 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.
And so we've come here today to dramatize an appalling
condition. In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a cheque. 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 colour are concerned. Instead of
honouring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad
cheque 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've come to cash this cheque - a cheque that will give us upon demand the
riches of freedom and the security of justice.
Sweltering summer... of discontent
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 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.
The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our
nation until the bright day of justice emerges
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. 1963 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. 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 march ahead. We cannot turn back.
Trials and tribulations
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 selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating
"For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied and we will not 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 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 a table of brotherhood
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
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, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the
moment, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American
dream.
The 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 a table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a
desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and 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 colour 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 little 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 will 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, this will be the day when all of God's
children will be able to sing with a 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 peaks 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 every molehill of
Mississippi, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to 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!"
Permission granted by Intellectual Properties Management,
Atlanta, Georgia, as manager of the King Estate. Further to Dr King's legacy by
making community service a way of life, please visit the King Center's website
[under related links] to find a service opportunity in your neighborhood
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