Martin Luther King


August 28, 1963


I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom(自由を求める最も堂々たるデモ) in the history of our nation.

Five score years(100 years) ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation(奴隷解放宣言).

This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope(大いなる希望の篝火) to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice.

It came as a joyous daybreak(歓喜の夜明け) 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(人種隔離の手かせ) and the chains of discrimination(人種隔離の足かせ).

One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty(貧困の孤島) 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(陸上での島流し).

So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition(恥ずべき現状).

In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check(手形, 小切手).

When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution(合衆国憲法) and the Declaration of Independence(独立宣言),

they were signing a promissory note(約束手形) 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(侵すべからざる権利)" of "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness(生きること、自由であること、そして幸福であろうとすること)".

It is obvious today that America has defaulted(反故にした) 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(不渡り手形), a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds(残高不足)".


But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice(正義の銀行) is bankrupt.

We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity(チャンスの詰まった巨大な金庫) of this nation.

And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom(自由という豊かさ) and the security of justice(正義という保障).


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(鎮静剤) of gradualism(漸進主義).

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(人種隔離という暗く寒々しい谷) to the sunlit path of racial justice(人種差別のない陽の当たる道).

Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice(人種差別という脆い砂地) to the solid rock of brotherhood(同胞で固める岩盤).

Now is the time to make justice reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment(喫緊の時).

This sweltering summer(酷暑の夏) of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn(爽風の秋) of freedom and equality.

1963 is not an end, but a beginning.

And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam(鬱憤を晴らす) 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(公民権).

The whirlwinds of revolt(つむじ風のごとき反乱) 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(正義の殿堂).

In the process of gaining our rightful place(然るべき居場所), we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds.

Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom(自由への渇望) by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred(敵意と憎しみ).

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline(尊厳と規律).

We must not allow our creative protest(建設的な反抗) to degenerate into physical violence(力任せの暴力).

Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights(堂々たる高み) 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(2つには分けられない結びつき) 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 ?(いつになったら満足するのか)"

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".


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, 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 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 fresh shall see it together.

This is our hope.

That 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 new meaning,

"My county '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 be come true.

So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops 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 StoneMountain 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 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 !"



マーチン・ルーサー・キングのスピーチ --私には夢がある! 

キング牧師「私には夢がある」:I Have a Dream Speech


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