英語美文:我有一個夢(I have dream)

閱讀，不是為了得到什么，而是在被生活打擊的無路可退時最后的安身之所。靜靜等待，閱讀，一定會給予你獎勵。下面是英語美文:我有一個夢(I have dream)的資料，希望你會喜歡！

　　我有一個夢

　　……今天，我對你們說，我的朋友們，盡管此時的困難與挫折，我們仍然有個夢，這是深深扎根于美國夢中的夢。

　　我有一個夢：有一天，這個國家將站起來，并實現(xiàn)它的信條的真正含義：“我們認為這些真理是不言而喻的，即所有的人都生來平等。”

　　我有一個夢：有一天，在喬治亞州的紅色山丘上，從前奴隸的子孫們和從前奴隸主的子孫們將能像兄弟般地坐在同一桌旁。

　　我有一個夢：有一天，甚至密西西比州，一個有著不公正和壓迫的熱浪襲人的荒漠之州，將改造成自由和公正的綠洲。

　　我有一個夢：我的4個小孩將有一天生活在一個國度里，在那里，人們不是從他們的膚色，而是從他們的品格來評價他們。

　　今天我有一個夢想：

　　我有一個夢：有一天，阿拉巴馬州將變成這樣一個地方，那里黑人小男孩、小女孩可以和白人小男孩、小女孩，像兄弟姐妹一樣手牽手并肩而行。

　　今天我有一個夢想。

　　我有一個夢：有一天，每一個峽谷將升高，每一座山丘和高峰被削低，崎嶇粗糙的地方改造成平原，彎彎曲曲的地方變得筆直，上帝的榮耀得以展露，全人類都將舉目共睹。

　　這是我們的希望，這是信念，帶著這個信念我回到南方，懷著這個信念我們將能從絕望之山中開采出一塊希望之石。懷著這個信念，我們將能把我們國家的刺耳的不和音，轉變成一曲優(yōu)美動聽的兄弟情誼交響曲。懷著這個信念，我們將能工作在一起，祈禱在一起，奮斗在一起，一起赴監(jiān)獄，一起為自由而挺住。因為我們知道，有一天我們將獲自由。

　　將會有一天，那時，所有上帝的孩子們將能以新的含義高唱：

　　我的祖國，

　　你是自由的樂土。

　　我為你歌唱：

　　我的先輩的安葬之地，

　　讓自由的聲音，

　　響徹每一道山崗。

　　如果說美國是一個偉大的國家，這必須要成真。因此，讓自由的聲音從新罕布什爾州巨大的山巔響起吧。讓自由的聲音從紐約州巍巍群山響起吧，讓自由的聲音從賓夕法尼亞州阿拉根尼高原響起吧！

　　讓自由的聲音從科羅拉多州冰雪覆蓋的落基山脈響起吧！

　　讓自由的聲音從加利福尼亞婀娜多姿的山峰上響起吧！

　　但不僅如此，還讓自由之聲從喬治亞州的石峰上響起吧！

　　讓自由之聲從田納西州的觀景峰響起吧！

　　讓自由之聲從密西西比州的每一道山丘響起吧！在每一道山坡上，讓自由之聲響起吧！

　　當我們讓自由之聲響徹之時，當我們讓它從每一座村莊，從每一個州和每一座城市響起時，我們將能加速這一天的到來，那時，所有上帝的孩子們，黑人和白人，猶太人和異教徒們，基督徒和天主教徒們，將能手挽手，以那古老的黑人圣歌的歌詞高唱；

　　“終于自由了！終于自由了！感謝全能的上帝，我們終于自由了！”

　　I Have A Dream

　　Delivered on the steps at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. on August 28, 1963. Source: Martin Luther King, Jr.: The Peaceful Warrior, Pocket Books, NY 1968

　　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 quick sands 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 you have come fresh from narrow 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.

　　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 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 the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together 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 with which I return to the South. 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 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. 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 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.

　　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! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"