《我有一个梦想》（I have a dream）是马丁·路德·金于1963年8月28日在华盛顿林肯纪念堂发表的著名演讲，内容主要关于黑人民族平等。对美国甚至世界影响很大，被我国编入中学教程。
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编辑本段作者简介
1968年4月4日黄昏，马丁·路德·金在洛兰宾馆306房间阳台散
心时遇刺身亡，终年39岁。他是美国黑人民权运动领袖，浸礼会教堂牧师，非暴力主义者。1929年1月15日出生于佐治亚州亚特兰大市一黑人家庭，父亲和祖父都是浸礼会的传教士。早年就读于亚特兰大的莫尔豪斯学院社会学系，19岁毕业后加入浸礼教会。1951年和1954年又先后毕业于宾夕法尼亚州切斯特市的克罗泽神学院和波士顿大学。1954年在蒙哥马利城的德克斯特大道浸礼会教堂任职。1955年获得博士学位。此后他积极参加和领导美国黑人争取平等权利的斗争，一生三次被捕，三次被判刑。1956年他领导蒙哥马利改进协会，组织黑人进行抵制公共汽车歧视黑人的斗争。全城5万黑人拒乘公共汽车385天，迫使最高法院宣布在交通工具上实施种族隔离为非法。1957年帮助建立黑人牧师组织—南方基督教领袖大会，并任该会首任主席。1963年8月率领25万黑人向华盛顿林肯纪念堂“自由进军”，1964年获诺贝尔和平奖。他极具演说才能，并著有《阔步走向自由》《我们为何不能再等待》等著作。其思想对60年代美国黑人民权运动产生了重大影响。遇害时，他正准备帮助孟菲斯黑人清洁工人组织罢工。当时他在旅馆阳台上与同伴们谈话，被刺客詹姆斯·厄尔·雷用枪击中。刺客得手后窜逃出境，6月8日在伦敦机场被捕，后被判处99年徒刑。金的遇刺触发了黑人抗暴斗争的巨大风暴。4月4日到6日，全美一百多个城市爆发骚乱。
美国政府确定从1986年起每年一月的第三个星期一（金的诞辰为1月15日）为全国纪念日。从1987年起金的诞辰亦为联合国的纪念日之一。
编辑本段英文原文
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'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 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've 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. And 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. And 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 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.
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.