“A hundred years ago, by the hand of a great American, whose monument symbolically rises above us on this day, a manifesto on the emancipation of slaves was signed. For millions of forced victims of withering injustice, this fateful decree promised to become a long-awaited beacon of hope. This radiant decree promised to put an end to the pitch darkness of their painful captivity.

But a hundred years later, the Negro is still in captivity. A hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still crippled by the merciless fetters of segregation and the chains of discrimination. A hundred years later, the Negro still lives on a lonely island of poverty in the middle of a vast ocean of material prosperity. A hundred years later, the black man still languishes on the margins of American society, an outcast in his own country. And here we are, to bring this unheard of disgrace to the public.

In a sense, we are here in the capital of our Motherland to cash a check. In crafting the momentous words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, the architects of our republic signed a promissory note, a long-term commitment to every American. This commitment was a promise to all, without exception—yes, blacks as well as whites—of a guarantee of the inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of prosperity.

America has certainly failed in its commitment to people of color. Abandoning its sacred duty, America issued the Negro an unsecured check, a check marked “insufficient funds in the account.” We refuse to believe in the failure of the bank of justice. We refuse to believe that there is a shortage of funds in the vaults of this country's colossal capabilities. And now we're here to cash this check. A check that will open for us the gates to the treasury of freedom and the fortress of justice. And here we are, in this sacred place, to remind America of the urgency of the pressing issue. We cannot afford the luxury of reassurance and the tranquilizer of the gradual abolition of slavery. The hour has come to realize the promises of democracy. The hour has come, rising from the darkness and cold of the dungeons of segregation, to enter the sunny path of racial justice. The hour has come, having rescued our Motherland from the quicksand of racial prejudice, to step on the solid ground of brotherhood. The hour has come to bring justice to reality for all the children of our Lord God.

Neglecting an urgent issue and underestimating the determination of the colored population is like death for our Motherland. This sultry summer of justified discontent among the colored people will not end until the invigorating autumn of freedom and equality arrives. One thousand nine hundred and sixty-three is not the end of the year, but the beginning. If tomorrow the country goes back to work as if nothing had happened, then those who think that the Negro, having let off accumulated steam today, will finally relax, will be bitterly disappointed. There will be no peace or tranquility in America until the black man gets his civil rights. The whirlwinds of uprising will continue to shake the fundamental principles of our Motherland until the bright sun of freedom appears over the horizon.

I also have a word for my people who stand on the warm threshold leading to the palace of justice. As we achieve our rightful place in the sun, may we not become guilty of bad deeds. May we not quench our thirst for freedom with sips from the cup of hatred and malice.

May we always wage our struggle from the heavens of dignity and discipline. May we not allow our creative protest to fall to the depths of violence. May we again and again rise to the majestic heights of resistance to physical strength and spiritual strength. May the determined spirit that the Negro people have filled not plunge us into distrust of all white brothers, for many of them - and the presence of our white compatriots here today is evidence of this - realized that their fate is closely intertwined with ours, realized that their freedom is inextricably connected with ours. We alone cannot do this path.

And on this path, we give our word and must only move forward. There is no way back. Someone turns to civil rights advocates with the question: “Well, when will you calm down?” We will not rest until the Negro ceases to be a victim of the nightmare of the unimaginable cruelty of law enforcement officers. No, we will not calm down until our bodies, exhausted by the heavy road, are no longer denied rest within the walls of city and roadside hotels. We will not calm down until the Negro stops moving only from a small ghetto to a larger ghetto. No, we will not rest until our children are no longer deprived of their individuality and self-esteem by the merciless signs “For Whites Only.” We will not rest until the Negro in Mississippi has the right to vote, and the Negro in New York has no one to vote for. No, we are not calm, and we will not calm down until the source of justice and righteousness fills with a spring.

Yes, I know that for some of you the path here lay through troubles and adversity. For some of you, the path here lay from where the desire for freedom suffers under a hail of persecution and from the storms of cruelty of the guardians of order. You are veterans of torment in the name of creation. Do not abandon faith in retribution for undeserved torment.

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 the northern cities of our Motherland, knowing that there is a way out and everything will change. Let us not fly into the abyss of despair.

Today, my friends, despite all the problems of the present and future, I tell you: “I still have a dream!” A dream that has deep roots going back to the American dream.

I have a dream: one day our country, having realized the true meaning of its faith, will become its embodiment. We firmly believe that universal equality does not require any proof.

I have a dream: one day, in the crimson hills of Georgia, the descendants of former slaves will be able to share a meal of brotherhood with the descendants of former slaveholders.

I have a dream: one day even the state of Mississippi, a state languishing under scorching injustice, suffocating under sultry oppression, will turn into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream: one day my four children will wake up in a country where people are judged not by the color of their skin, but by their moral qualities.

I have a dream: one day there, in Alabama, a state of violent racists, a state of a governor who is generous with speeches about non-interference in state affairs and non-recognition of the laws of Congress; one day, down in Alabama, black boys and girls will join hands with white boys and girls, like brothers and sisters.

I have a dream: one day every valley will be filled, and every hill will be exalted, and every mountain will be made low, the rough paths will become smooth, the crooked paths will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord our God will be revealed, and all flesh will see it.

This is our hope. This is the faith with which I will return to the south of the country. With this faith we will carve a stone of hope from the block of despair. With this faith we will transform the strumming of our Motherland’s discord into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we can work together, pray together, fight together, languish together in captivity, stand for freedom together, knowing that one day we will be free.

And that day will come... and that day will come when all the children of our Lord God will put new meaning into the words: “My country, the native land of freedom, I sing an ode to you, Where my father ascended to paradise, the proud land of our forefathers, from the high slopes of the mountains let freedom ring!”

And if America is destined to become great power, then only through translating these words into reality. Let freedom ring from the amazing heights of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the colossal mountains of New York State. Let freedom ring from the elegant Allegheny Mountains in Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the tops of the snow-capped Rocky Mountains in Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curly slopes of California.

Moreover, let freedom ring from Stone Mountain in Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain in Tennessee.

Let freedom ring from all the hills and tussocks of the Mississippi, from all slopes without exception.

Let freedom ring, and when this happens... when we allow freedom to ring, when we allow it to ring from all sides and villages, from all cities and states, then we will bring closer the day when all the children of the Lord our God, black and white, Jews and non-Jews, Catholics and Protestants, will be able to join hands and sing the words from the old church hymn: “We are free at last! Free at last! Thank you, father, we are free at last!”

MARTIN LUTHER KING (1929-1968) - American priest and social activist, leader of the black civil rights movement in the 1950s-1960s. In October 1964, King was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his contributions to the movement of nonviolent resistance to racial oppression. In 1968, he organized the Poor People's Campaign to unite poor people of all races in the fight against poverty. To support the garbage strike, he traveled to Memphis, Tennessee, where he was assassinated on April 4, 1968.

“I Have a Dream” is Martin Luther King's most famous speech, in which he described his vision of a future where white and black citizens of the United States would enjoy equal rights and opportunities.

Martin Luther King. I have a dream

Five decades ago, the great American under whose symbolic shadow we gather today signed the Negro Emancipation Proclamation. This important decree became a majestic beacon of light of hope for millions of black slaves scorched by the flames of withering injustice. It became a joyful dawn that ended the long night of captivity.

But after a hundred years we are forced to face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro, unfortunately, continues to be crippled by the shackles of segregation and the shackles of discrimination. A hundred years later, the black man lives on a deserted island of poverty in the middle of a vast ocean of material prosperity. A hundred years later, the black man still languishes on the margins of American society and finds himself in exile on his own land. So we came here today to highlight the drama of the deplorable situation.

In a sense, we came to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the beautiful words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note that every American would inherit. According to this bill, all people were guaranteed the unalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Today it has become obvious that America has not been able to pay on this bill what is due to its colored citizens. Instead of paying this sacred debt, America issued a bad check to the Negro people, which returned marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice has failed. We refuse to believe that there are not enough funds in the vast reservoirs of our state's capabilities. And we have come to receive this check - a check by which we will be given the treasures of freedom and guarantees of justice. We have come here to this sacred place also to remind America of the urgent requirement of today. This is not the time to be satisfied with pacifying measures or to take the sedative medicine of gradual solutions. It is time to emerge from the dark valley of segregation and enter the sunlit path of racial justice. It is time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. It is time to lead our nation from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.

It would be mortally dangerous for our state to ignore the special importance at this moment and underestimate the resolve of blacks. The sultry summer of legitimate Negro discontent will not end until the invigorating autumn of freedom and equality arrives. 1963 is not the end, but the beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to let off steam and will now calm down will have a rude awakening if our nation returns to business as usual. Until the Negro is given his civil rights, America will see neither serenity nor peace. Revolutionary storms will continue to shake the foundations of our state until the bright day of justice comes.

But there is something else that I must say to my people who stand on the blessed threshold at the entrance to the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not give rise to accusations of unseemly conduct. Let us not seek to quench our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must always wage our struggle from a noble position of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. We must strive to reach great heights by matching physical strength with mental strength. The remarkable militancy which has taken possession of Negro society need not lead us to the distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers have realized, as evidenced by their presence here today, that their destiny is closely connected with our destiny and their freedom is inevitably connected with our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And once we start moving, we must swear that we will move forward. We can't turn back. There are those who ask those dedicated to the cause of civil rights: "When will you calm down?" We will never rest until our bodies, heavy with the weariness of long journeys, can find lodgings in roadside motels and city inns. We will not rest as long as the main mode of movement of the Negro remains moving from a small ghetto to a large one. We will not rest until the Negro in Mississippi can't vote and the Negro in New York thinks he has nothing to vote for. No, we have no reason to rest, and we will never rest until justice begins to flow like waters, and righteousness becomes like a mighty stream. I do not forget that many of you came here after going through great trials and suffering. Some of you have come here straight from cramped prison cells. Some of you have come from areas where you have been subjected to storms of persecution and police brutality for your desire for freedom. You have become veterans of creative suffering. Keep working, believing that undeserved suffering will be redeemed.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that one way or another this situation can and will change. Let us not suffer in the valley of despair.

I tell you today, my friends, that despite the difficulties and disappointments, I have a dream. This is a dream deeply rooted in the American Dream. I have a dream that the day will come when our nation will rise up and live up to the true meaning of its motto: “We hold it to be self-evident that all men are created equal.” I have a dream that the day will come in the red hills of Georgia when the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveholders can sit together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that the day will come when even the state of Mississippi, a desolate state sweltering under the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that the day will come when my four children will live in a country where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by what they are.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that the day will come when in the state of Alabama, whose governor now claims to interfere in the internal affairs of the state and defy the laws passed by Congress, a situation will be created in which little black boys and girls can join hands with little white boys and girls and walk together like brothers and sisters.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that a day will come when all the lowlands will rise, all the hills and mountains will fall, the rough places will be turned into plains, the crooked places will become straight, the greatness of the Lord will appear before us and all mortals will be convinced of this together.

This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South. With this faith, we can hew the stone of hope from the mountain of despair. With this faith we can transform the discordant voices of our people into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we can work together, pray together, fight together, go to prison together, defend freedom together, knowing that one day we will be free. This will be the day when all God's children will be able to sing, giving new meaning to these words: "My country, it is I you, sweet land of freedom, it is I who sing your praises. Land where my fathers died, land of pilgrims' pride, let freedom ring with all mountain slopes." And if America is to be a great country, this must happen.

Let freedom ring from the tops of the stunning hills of New Hampshire!

Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York!

Let freedom ring from the high Allegheny Mountains of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Colorado Rockies!

Let freedom ring from the curved mountain peaks of California!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain in Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and knoll of the Mississippi!

Let freedom ring from every mountain slope!

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we can hasten the coming of that day when all of God's children, black and white, Jew and Gentile, Protestant and Catholic, can join hands and sing the words of the old Negro spiritual hymn: "Free at last! Free at last! Thanks to the almighty Lord, we are free at last!"

"I have a dream today!"
M.L. King, August 28, 1963

Five decades ago, the great American under whose symbolic shadow we gather today signed the Negro Emancipation Proclamation. This important decree became a majestic beacon of light of hope for millions of black slaves scorched by the flames of withering injustice. It became a joyful dawn that ended the long night of captivity.
But after a hundred years we are forced to face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro, unfortunately, continues to be crippled by the shackles of segregation and the shackles of discrimination. A hundred years later, the black man lives on a deserted island of poverty in the middle of a vast ocean of material prosperity. A hundred years later, the black man still languishes on the margins of American society and finds himself in exile on his own land. So we came here today to highlight the drama of the deplorable situation.
In a sense, we came to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the beautiful words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note that every American would inherit. According to this bill, all people were guaranteed the unalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Today it has become obvious that America has not been able to pay on this bill what is due to its colored citizens. Instead of paying this sacred debt, America issued a bad check to the Negro people, which returned marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice has failed. We refuse to believe that there are not enough funds in the vast reservoirs of our state's capabilities. And we have come to receive this check - a check by which we will be given the treasures of freedom and guarantees of justice. We have come here to this sacred place also to remind America of the urgent requirement of today. This is not the time to be satisfied with pacifying measures or to take the sedative medicine of gradual solutions. It is time to emerge from the dark valley of segregation and enter the sunlit path of racial justice. It is time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. It is time to lead our nation from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.
It would be mortally dangerous for our nation to ignore the special importance of this moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negroes. The sultry summer of legitimate Negro discontent will not end until the invigorating autumn of freedom and equality arrives. 1963 is not the end, but the beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to let off steam and will now calm down will have a rude awakening if our nation returns to business as usual. Until the Negro is given his civil rights, America will see neither serenity nor peace. Revolutionary storms will continue to shake the foundations of our state until the bright day of justice comes.
But there is something else that I must say to my people who stand on the blessed threshold at the entrance to the palace of justice. In the process of conquering our rightful place, we should not give grounds for accusations of unseemly actions. Let us not seek to quench our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must always wage our struggle from a noble position of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. We must strive to reach great heights by matching physical strength with mental strength. The remarkable militancy which has taken possession of Negro society need not lead us to the distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers have realized, as evidenced by their presence here today, that their destiny is closely connected with our destiny and their freedom is inevitably connected with our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
And once we start moving, we must swear that we will move forward.
We can't turn back. There are those who ask those dedicated to the cause of civil rights: "When will you calm down?" We will never rest until our bodies, heavy with the weariness of long journeys, can find lodgings in roadside motels and city inns. We will not rest as long as the main mode of movement of the Negro remains moving from a small ghetto to a large one. We won't rest until a Negro in Mississippi can't vote and a Negro in
New York City believes it has nothing to vote for. No, we have no reason to rest, and we will never rest until justice begins to flow like waters, and righteousness becomes like a mighty stream.
I do not forget that many of you came here after going through great trials and suffering. Some of you have come here straight from cramped prison cells. Some of you have come from areas where you have been subjected to storms of persecution and police brutality for your desire for freedom. You have become veterans of creative suffering. Keep working, believing that undeserved suffering will be redeemed.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that one way or another this situation can and will change. Let us not suffer in the valley of despair.
I tell you today, my friends, that despite the difficulties and disappointments, I have a dream. This is a dream deeply rooted in the American Dream.
I have a dream that the day will come when our nation will rise up and live up to the true meaning of its motto: “We hold it to be self-evident that all men are created equal.”
I have a dream that the day will come in the red hills of Georgia when the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveholders can sit together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that the day will come when even the state of Mississippi, a desert state sweltering under the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that the day will come when my four children will live in a country where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by what they are.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that the day will come when in the state of Alabama, whose governor now claims to interfere in the internal affairs of the state and defy the laws passed by Congress, a situation will be created in which little black boys and girls can join hands with little white boys and girls and walk together like brothers and sisters.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that the day will come when all the lowlands will rise, all the hills and mountains will fall, the rough places will be turned into plains, the crooked places will become straight, the greatness of the Lord will appear before us and all mortals will be convinced of this together.
This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South.
With this faith, we can hew the stone of hope from the mountain of despair. With this faith we can transform the discordant voices of our people into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we can work together, pray together, fight together, go to prison together, defend freedom together, knowing that one day we will be free.
This will be the day when all God's children will be able to sing, giving new meaning to these words: "My country, it is I you, sweet land of freedom, it is I who sing your praises. Land where my fathers died, land of pilgrims' pride, let freedom ring with all mountain slopes."
And if America is to be a great country, this must happen.
Let freedom ring from the tops of the stunning hills of New Hampshire!
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York!
Let freedom ring from the high Allegheny Mountains of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Colorado Rockies!
Let freedom ring from the curved mountain peaks of California!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain in Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and knoll of the Mississippi!
Let freedom ring from every mountain slope!
When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we can hasten the coming of that day when all of God's children, black and white, Jew and Gentile, Protestant and Catholic, can join hands and sing the words of the old Negro spiritual hymn: "Free at last! Free at last! Thanks to the almighty Lord, we are free at last!"

American priest and civil rights activist Martin Luther King was born on January 15, 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. His great-grandfathers were slaves, his grandfather was a peasant, but King’s father was already a priest, and he himself completed graduate school at Boston University, becoming a Doctor of Philosophy.

The King era began in December 1955, after a seemingly unremarkable event in Montgomery, where King was serving as a pastor at the time. Black seamstress Rosa Parks was arrested for refusing to give up her seat on a bus to a white passenger. Under King's leadership, the black community boycotted Montgomery transportation for 382 days. In November 1956 Supreme Court The United States declared Alabama's segregation law unconstitutional, and as early as December, blacks and whites shared buses. By the way, King’s grandfather once organized a boycott of the racist newspaper Georgian in Atlanta. When six thousand black Atlantans stopped buying her, she went bankrupt.

In the seething, heated time of the late 50s and early 60s, when many black nationalists spoke of hatred and readiness to fight all the forces of white America, King convinced everyone of the need for nonviolent resistance to racism. The result of the civil rights movement, which included marches, economic boycotts, mass exodus to prison, etc. became the Rights Act, approved by the US Congress in 1964.

King's role in the nonviolent struggle for the passage of legislation that eliminated the remnants of racial discrimination was noted Nobel Prize peace.

On August 28, 1963, in Washington, DC, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, King delivered his famous speech, in which he expressed his belief in the brotherhood of all people and which is a magnificent example of oratory.

“I have a dream that one day a nation will rise up and realize... that all men are created equal... I dream of the day when... the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all flesh will see the salvation of God... In This is our hope and our faith. With this faith we can make our way from the mountain of despair to the rock of hope. This faith will help us work together, pray together, stand for freedom together, knowing that the day of our liberation will come. But on the way to the righteous place we must not commit unrighteous deeds..."

The movement survived and won. Blacks could now go to the same schools and shops with whites, live in hotels with whites, and were no longer hounded by dogs or kicked out of the front seats of the bus.

At the height of his life, at 39, King was assassinated by a white gunman in April 1968.

Catholic Church recognized King, a Protestant minister, as a martyr who gave his life for the Christian faith.

King was the first black American to have a bust erected in the Great Rotunda of the Capitol in Washington. January 20 is celebrated in America as Martin Luther King Day and is considered a national holiday.

Text of the speech in English:

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 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 flesh shall see it together."

This is our hope, and 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.

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 father 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 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!

Russian translation:

I tell you today, my friends, that despite the difficulties and disappointments, I have a dream. This is a dream deeply rooted in the American Dream.

I have a dream that the day will come when our nation will rise up and live up to the true meaning of its motto: “We hold it to be self-evident that all men are created equal.”

I have a dream that the day will come in the red hills of Georgia when the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveholders can sit together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that the day will come when even the state of Mississippi, a desolate state sweltering under the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that the day will come when my four children will live in a country where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by what they are.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that the day will come when in the state of Alabama, whose governor now claims to interfere in the internal affairs of the state and defy the laws passed by Congress, a situation will be created in which little black boys and girls can join hands with little white boys and girls and walk together like brothers and sisters.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that a day will come when all the lowlands will rise, all the hills and mountains will fall, the rough places will be turned into plains, the crooked places will become straight, the greatness of the Lord will appear before us and all mortals will be convinced of this together.

This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South.

With this faith, we can hew the stone of hope from the mountain of despair. With this faith we can transform the discordant voices of our people into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we can work together, pray together, fight together, go to prison together, defend freedom together, knowing that one day we will be free.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning:

“My country, this is I of you, sweet land of freedom, it is I who sing your praises. Land where my fathers died, land of pilgrims’ pride, let freedom ring from all the mountain slopes.”

And if America is to be a great country, this must happen.

Let freedom ring from the tops of the stunning hills of New Hampshire!
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York!
Let freedom ring from the high Allegheny Mountains of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Colorado Rockies!
Let freedom ring from the curved mountain peaks of California!

But not only:

Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain in Dorjia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain in Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and knoll of the Mississippi!
Let freedom ring from every mountain slope!

When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we can hasten the coming of that day when all of God's children, black and white, Jew and Gentile, Protestant and Catholic, can join hands and sing the words of an old Negro spiritual hymn:

"Free at last! Free at last! Thank the almighty God, we are free at last!"

This speech is considered one of the best speeches in history and was voted the best speech of the 20th century by the American public speaking community.

The speech was delivered during one of the most important stages of the American black rights movement in the United States of 1955-1968 during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom.
On August 28, 1963, under a nearly cloudless sky, more than 250,000 people, a fifth of them white, gathered at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., under the slogan “jobs and freedom.”
The list of speakers included speakers from almost every segment of society - labor leaders, clergy, movie stars, and others.
Each speaker was allotted fifteen minutes, but the day belonged to a young and charismatic Baptist preacher from Tennessee.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. originally prepared a brief and somewhat formulaic account of the suffering of African Americans trying to realize their freedom in a society constrained by discrimination. He was about to sit down when singer Mahalia Jackson shouted, "Tell them about your dream, Martin! Tell them about your dream!"
Encouraged by the cries of the audience, King drew on some of his past speeches and the result was a landmark statement of civil rights in America—the dream of all people, of all races, colors and backgrounds, sharing an America marked by freedom and democracy.

King's speech was replete with references to the Bible, and also addressed the concepts of American freedom and equality that had long been proclaimed but had never been realized for African Americans. King, being an experienced preacher, perfectly structured the tempo of his speech, combining it with his singing timbre. The speech made an indelible impression on all participants in the march and ultimately forced the US authorities to grant equal rights to all its citizens

"I have a dream". Speech by Martin Luther King on August 28, 1963

(translated into Russian)

Five decades ago, the great American under whose symbolic shadow we gather today signed the Negro Emancipation Proclamation. This important decree became a majestic beacon of light of hope for millions of black slaves scorched by the flames of withering injustice. It became a joyful dawn that ended the long night of captivity.

But after a hundred years we are forced to face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro, unfortunately, continues to be crippled by the shackles of segregation and the shackles of discrimination. A hundred years later, the black man lives on a deserted island of poverty in the middle of a vast ocean of material prosperity. A hundred years later, the black man still languishes on the margins of American society and finds himself in exile on his own land. So we came here today to highlight the drama of the deplorable situation.

In a sense, we came to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the beautiful words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note that every American would inherit. According to this bill, all people were guaranteed the unalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Today it has become obvious that America has not been able to pay on this bill what is due to its colored citizens. Instead of paying this sacred debt, America issued a bad check to the Negro people, which returned marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice has failed. We refuse to believe that there are not enough funds in the vast reservoirs of our state's capabilities. And we have come to receive this check - a check by which we will be given the treasures of freedom and guarantees of justice. We have come here to this sacred place also to remind America of the urgent requirement of today. This is not the time to be satisfied with pacifying measures or to take the sedative medicine of gradual solutions. It is time to emerge from the dark valley of segregation and enter the sunlit path of racial justice. It is time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. It is time to lead our nation from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.

It would be mortally dangerous for our nation to ignore the special importance of this moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negroes. The sultry summer of legitimate Negro discontent will not end until the invigorating autumn of freedom and equality arrives. 1963 is not the end, but the beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to let off steam and will now calm down will have a rude awakening if our nation returns to business as usual. Until the Negro is given his civil rights, America will see neither serenity nor peace. Revolutionary storms will continue to shake the foundations of our state until the bright day of justice comes.
But there is something else that I must say to my people who stand on the blessed threshold at the entrance to the palace of justice. In the process of conquering our rightful place, we should not give grounds for accusations of unseemly actions. Let us not seek to quench our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must always wage our struggle from a noble position of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. We must strive to reach great heights by matching physical strength with mental strength. The remarkable militancy which has taken possession of Negro society need not lead us to the distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers have realized, as evidenced by their presence here today, that their destiny is closely connected with our destiny and their freedom is inevitably connected with our freedom.

We cannot walk alone.
And once we start moving, we must swear that we will move forward. We cannot turn back. There are those who ask those dedicated to the cause of civil rights: "When will you calm down?" We will never rest until our bodies, heavy with the weariness of long journeys, can find lodgings in roadside motels and city inns. We will not rest as long as the main mode of movement of the Negro remains moving from a small ghetto to a large one. We will not rest until the Negro in Mississippi can't vote and the Negro in New York thinks he has nothing to vote for. No, we have no reason to rest, and we will never rest until justice begins to flow like waters, and righteousness becomes like a mighty stream.

I do not forget that many of you came here after going through great trials and suffering. Some of you have come here straight from cramped prison cells. Some of you have come from areas where you have been subjected to storms of persecution and police brutality for your desire for freedom. You have become veterans of creative suffering. Keep working, believing that undeserved suffering will be redeemed.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that one way or another this situation can and will change. Let us not suffer in the valley of despair.

I tell you today, my friends, that despite the difficulties and disappointments, I have a dream. This is a dream deeply rooted in the American Dream.
I have a dream that the day will come when our nation will rise up and live up to the true meaning of its motto: “We hold it to be self-evident that all men are created equal.”
I have a dream that the day will come in the red hills of Georgia when the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slaveholders can sit together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that the day will come when even the state of Mississippi, a desert state sweltering under the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that the day will come when my four children will live in a country where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by what they are.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that the day will come when in the state of Alabama, whose governor now claims to interfere in the internal affairs of the state and defy the laws passed by Congress, a situation will be created in which little black boys and girls can join hands with little white boys and girls and walk together like brothers and sisters.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that the day will come when all the lowlands will rise, all the hills and mountains will fall, the rough places will be turned into plains, the crooked places will become straight, the greatness of the Lord will appear before us and all mortals will be convinced of this together.
This is our hope. This is the faith with which I return to the South.
With this faith, we can hew the stone of hope from the mountain of despair. With this faith we can transform the discordant voices of our people into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we can work together, pray together, fight together, go to prison together, defend freedom together, knowing that one day we will be free.
This will be the day when all God's children will be able to sing, giving new meaning to these words: "My country, it is I you, sweet land of freedom, it is I who sing your praises. Land where my fathers died, land of pilgrims' pride, let freedom ring with all mountain slopes."
And if America is to be a great country, this must happen.
Let freedom ring from the tops of the stunning hills of New Hampshire!
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York!
Let freedom ring from the high Allegheny Mountains of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Colorado Rockies!
Let freedom ring from the curved mountain peaks of California!
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain in Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every hill and knoll of the Mississippi!
Let freedom ring from every mountain slope!
When we let freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we can hasten the coming of that day when all of God's children, black and white, Jew and Gentile, Protestant and Catholic, can join hands and sing the words of the old Negro spiritual hymn: "Free at last! Free at last! Thanks to the almighty Lord, we are free at last!"

"I have a dream". Speech by Martin Luther King on August 28, 1963

(in English)

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 of light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of suffering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But 100 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"ve 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 its citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check that 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"ve come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and security of justice. We have also come to his 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 hoped 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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, 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 father"s 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, and when we allow 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!"