生きててよかった キング牧師の演説に感銘
マーティン・ルーサー・キング・ジュニア (Martin Luther King, Jr., 1929年1月15日?1968年4月4日)はアメリカ合衆国のプロテスタントバプテスト派の牧師。キング牧師の名で知られ、アフリカ系アメリカ人公民権運動の指導者的役割を果たした活動家。
アメリカの人種差別(特にアフリカ系アメリカ人に対する差別)の歴史を語る上で重要な人物の一人である(Wikipedia 日本語)
1964年のノーベル平和賞受賞
たまたま きょうの診察の合間に この演説原稿をwebで見つけて プリント・アウトしてみた
久々に感動した
おおげさだが 生きていてよかったと ちょっぴり思ったほどだ
内容は 申しわけないけど大したことはない
だが 今から45年以上前に アメリカの黒人たちが一堂に会して 黒人は白人と平等なんだ と当たり前のことを宣言するのがいかに大変なことだったのか ひしひし感じられる
注意深く熟読すると じつは彼の文章 ありとあらゆる修辞によって成り立っている
計算されつくされた構文のためか 何度か繰り返して熟読すると 感動はやや薄れていく
それにしても なんと美しい文章なんだろ
英文学にはまったくの素人のわたしだけど
少なくとも4つの修飾法が彼の草稿で使われている
METAPHOR
The river of time The seeds of justice などの 置き換え
SIMILE
This is like nightmare ! など as / like のあとに 同義語を並列させる修飾
TRIPLETS
Every person alive needs food, shelter, and love. など 3つの言葉を並べていちばん強調したい単語に ストレスをつけて相手に話す方法
REPETITION
It used to be that you ... It used to be that you could.... It used to be that のように同じ構文や 単語を繰り返す 書き表し方など
これらを駆使しながら 黒人たちを鼓舞し続けた彼の熱い胸の内に去来するものは なんだったのだろう
当時 彼の娘は生後2週だったと言われる
やはり彼は 愛娘の将来 人種差別のないアメリカを求めていたに違いない
わたしには夢がある いつの日か アメリカが、わたしの4人の幼いこどもたちが 肌の色でなく 個性と特質で判断されるような国になることを・・・
などI have a dream....の8回の繰り返しは上述のREPITITIONだ
グッとわたしの心をとらえて離さない
彼の演説の最後のほうのパラグラフ
Let freedom ring の 8回以上の繰り返しは 圧巻だ
おもわず涙がこぼれそうになる
ガンジーと同じく キング牧師は非暴力による改革をめざすも 最期は差別主義者の凶弾に倒れてしまうのが なんとも無念だ
キング師の愛娘が健在なら 今年46歳のはず
彼女は オバマ大統領の登場に どんな気持ちだろうか
以下に 映像と 演説草稿 全文を示す だまされた と思って ぜひ一度 電子辞書を片手に読んでみてはいかかだろうか
August 28, 1963
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 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, 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 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 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. 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 ever 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 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. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecutions 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 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, 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.
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. 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 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."
アメリカの人種差別(特にアフリカ系アメリカ人に対する差別)の歴史を語る上で重要な人物の一人である(Wikipedia 日本語)
1964年のノーベル平和賞受賞
たまたま きょうの診察の合間に この演説原稿をwebで見つけて プリント・アウトしてみた
久々に感動した
おおげさだが 生きていてよかったと ちょっぴり思ったほどだ
内容は 申しわけないけど大したことはない
だが 今から45年以上前に アメリカの黒人たちが一堂に会して 黒人は白人と平等なんだ と当たり前のことを宣言するのがいかに大変なことだったのか ひしひし感じられる
注意深く熟読すると じつは彼の文章 ありとあらゆる修辞によって成り立っている
計算されつくされた構文のためか 何度か繰り返して熟読すると 感動はやや薄れていく
それにしても なんと美しい文章なんだろ
英文学にはまったくの素人のわたしだけど
少なくとも4つの修飾法が彼の草稿で使われている
METAPHOR
The river of time The seeds of justice などの 置き換え
SIMILE
This is like nightmare ! など as / like のあとに 同義語を並列させる修飾
TRIPLETS
Every person alive needs food, shelter, and love. など 3つの言葉を並べていちばん強調したい単語に ストレスをつけて相手に話す方法
REPETITION
It used to be that you ... It used to be that you could.... It used to be that のように同じ構文や 単語を繰り返す 書き表し方など
これらを駆使しながら 黒人たちを鼓舞し続けた彼の熱い胸の内に去来するものは なんだったのだろう
当時 彼の娘は生後2週だったと言われる
やはり彼は 愛娘の将来 人種差別のないアメリカを求めていたに違いない
わたしには夢がある いつの日か アメリカが、わたしの4人の幼いこどもたちが 肌の色でなく 個性と特質で判断されるような国になることを・・・
などI have a dream....の8回の繰り返しは上述のREPITITIONだ
グッとわたしの心をとらえて離さない
彼の演説の最後のほうのパラグラフ
Let freedom ring の 8回以上の繰り返しは 圧巻だ
おもわず涙がこぼれそうになる
ガンジーと同じく キング牧師は非暴力による改革をめざすも 最期は差別主義者の凶弾に倒れてしまうのが なんとも無念だ
キング師の愛娘が健在なら 今年46歳のはず
彼女は オバマ大統領の登場に どんな気持ちだろうか
以下に 映像と 演説草稿 全文を示す だまされた と思って ぜひ一度 電子辞書を片手に読んでみてはいかかだろうか
August 28, 1963
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 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, 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 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 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. 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 ever 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 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. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecutions 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 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, 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.
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. 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 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."
スポンサーサイト