給美國政府的答復(fù) —西雅圖酋長 (中英文對照精排版).docVIP

給美國政府的答復(fù)西雅圖酋長 數(shù)不盡的世代以來，渺渺蒼天曾為我族灑下多少同情之淚；這個在我們看來像是永恒不變的蒼天，實際上是會改變的。今天和風(fēng)旭日，明日則可能陰云密布。 但我的話卻有如天空亙古的星辰，永不變更。西雅圖說的話，正如日自東出，春去秋來，華盛頓的大酋長可以確信無疑。華盛頓的大酋長托白人酋長向我們致以友好的問候與祝愿。我們感謝他的好意，因為我知道他無所求于我們，不用我們以友情回報。他的子民眾多，猶如廣袤原野上無邊的的青草。我的族人寥寥，像風(fēng)催雨襲后的平原上稀疏的樹木。那位偉大的我也他是仁慈的白人酋長派遣人告訴我們，他愿意為我們保留足夠的土地過安逸生活的前提下，購買我們的土地。這看來確實很公道，甚至很慷慨，因為紅種人已經(jīng)沒有要求受尊重的權(quán)利了，這個提議也許還是英明的，因為這么遼闊的國土對我們來說已經(jīng)沒有意義了。曾幾何時，我們的族人曾密密麻麻地布滿了這片土地，就想隨風(fēng)涌浪的海水掩蓋著滿是貝殼的海底；但那個時代已經(jīng)一去不復(fù)返了，部落曾經(jīng)的輝煌只留給我們憂傷的回憶。我不愿再糾纏于我們部落過早的摔落馬，不愿再為此哀嘆，也不愿將此歸咎于白種兄弟，因為我們或許多少也應(yīng)該責(zé)怪自己。年輕一代總是容易沖動。我們年輕的族人被或真實或虛幻的冤屈所激怒，用黑漆把臉涂黑，其實同時他們也抹黑了自己的心，變得殘酷無情；而我們這些上了歲數(shù)的老人們又無力約束他們。然而，盡管一直都是如此，盡管白人把我們往西驅(qū)逐以來一直都是如此，但還是讓我們寄希望于彼此之間的仇恨能夠永久泯滅。仇恨能讓我們失去一切，卻毫無所得。對年輕人來說，可能復(fù)仇本身就是一種收獲，即使那會讓他們失去生命；但是那些在戰(zhàn)時固守家園的老人，以及可能在戰(zhàn)爭中失去兒子的母親們，懂得更多事情的真相。我們在華盛頓的好父親,自從喬治國王將他的邊界線向北大舉推進(jìn)之后，我已經(jīng)把他當(dāng)成我們的，也是你們的父親了我說，我們了不起的好心腸的父親傳話來說，他會保護(hù)我們，唯一的條件就是我們要按他說的去做。他神武的勇士將為我們筑起護(hù)衛(wèi)之墻，他神奇的戰(zhàn)艦會駐滿我們的港口。這樣一來，我們北邊的宿敵海達(dá)人和辛姆希人再也不能威脅到我們的婦孺老弱。如此這般，他作為父親，我們作為孩子就成為事實了。但這可能嗎？你們的上帝并不是我們的上帝；你們的上帝愛護(hù)你們的子民，卻憎恨我的族人。他以他有力的臂彎慈愛地環(huán)繞保護(hù)著白人，就像父親指引新生兒般指引著他們；但是他卻遺棄了他的紅皮膚的孩子如果我們真的能稱作他的孩子的話。我們的上帝，那偉大的神靈，好像也已經(jīng)遺棄了我們。你們的神讓你們的人民一天天強大起來，很快就能占領(lǐng)整個大地；而我的族人卻衰落得如撤退的潮水一去不復(fù)返了。白人的神不會愛護(hù)我們的同胞，不然他為何不保護(hù)他們，而讓他們像孤兒一樣求助無門？既然如此，我們怎么能成為兄弟呢？你們的神又怎能成為我們的神，讓我們重振雄風(fēng)并喚醒我們重返昔日鼎盛時期的夢想呢？假如我們真的有著同一位天父的話，那他也必定偏心，因為他只照看他那白皮膚的兒子，我們卻從來見不到他；他教給你們律法，對他紅皮膚的兒子卻無話要說，盡管他們曾經(jīng)如繁星占滿蒼穹般遍布整個大陸。不，我們是兩個截然不同的種族，起源不同，命運也各異。我們之間幾乎毫無共同點。在我們看來，祖先的骨灰是神圣的，他們的安息之所也是圣地；而你們卻似乎可以毫無哀痛感地遠(yuǎn)離祖先墓地。你們的宗教，是你們的神恐怕你們遺忘，以鐵指書寫在石板上的。紅種人對此既不能領(lǐng)會也會難以記?。晃覀兊淖诮虃髯晕覀兊淖嫦葌ゴ蟮纳耢`于夜晚的神圣時刻，以夢的方式賜予我們的長者，經(jīng)過酋長們的洞察，銘刻在我們族人的心底。你們的亡者一旦踏上墓地的大門，便不再愛護(hù)你們，也不再愛護(hù)曾經(jīng)的故國家園。從此飄忽于群星之外，很快就被生者遺忘，也永不再回來。我們的逝者卻永遠(yuǎn)不會遺忘這個賜予他生命的美麗世界。他們依然愛戀著青翠的峽谷，潺潺的河流，雄偉的大山，以及幽靜的溪谷和碧綠的湖泊海灣；并且以最溫柔的情感牽掛著內(nèi)心孤寂的生者，一次次地從他們極樂的狩獵之地回來，探望他們，指引他們，安撫他們。白晝與黑夜無法共存。紅種人對白種人從來就是敬而遠(yuǎn)之的，就像朝霧 在旭日升起前就要早早消散一樣。然而，你們的建議看來是公道的，我想我的人 民會接受建議，退居到你給他們的保留地。這樣我們就能分處兩地、和平共 存，因為白人大酋長對我的同胞所說的話，有如大自然從如磐的黑暗中發(fā)出來的聲音。 我們在什么地方度過余年已經(jīng)無關(guān)重要。我們已經(jīng)來日無多了。印第安人的夜晚只有一片漆黑，在他的地平線上不會再有希望的星星閃爍。憂傷的風(fēng)在遠(yuǎn)處嗚咽，殘酷的命運尾隨在紅種人的身后，不論身在何方，都聽得見無情的毀滅者靠近的腳步聲。他只能麻木地等待末日的到來，如同受傷的母鹿無奈地聽著獵人靠近的聲聲腳步。幾經(jīng)月圓月虧，幾次寒來暑往，這個由偉大的神靈所庇護(hù)、曾經(jīng)遍布廣袤的大地、在自己堪比樂園的家園幸福生活的民族，將不會再有一名幸存的子孫，為一個曾經(jīng)比你們更強大，更生機勃勃，如今卻只剩下墓碑的部族哀哀哭泣。但我又何必為我民族的夭折哀嘆呢？一個部落沒落，另一個部落就會振興；一個民族衰亡，另一民族便會崛起，像海潮一樣，后浪逐前浪。這是自然的法則，悲嘆惋惜又有何用呢？你們沒落的一天可能還很遙遠(yuǎn)，卻必定到來。因為即使是能夠同上帝像朋友一樣親密無間的白人， 也不能免于同樣的命運。我們終究會成為同命相憐的兄弟的，等著瞧吧。 我們會仔細(xì)權(quán)衡你們的提議，等到我們作出決定，就會通知你們。但是如 果我們接受這項建議，我現(xiàn)在在這里就要提出一個保留條件：我們要求有權(quán) 隨時不受干擾地掃謁我們祖先、朋友和子孫的墳?zāi)?。這里每一寸土地對于我的人民都是神圣的。每一片山坡，每一個河谷，每一塊平原，每一叢小樹都由于往日的哀愁與歡樂而變得無比圣潔。甚至那些靜靜躺在寂靜的海邊、被烈日曝曬的頑石，也因見證過族人們曾有的生氣勃勃的生活而變得激動人心；甚至你們腳底下的塵土也不會給予你們那種曾給予我們的深情回應(yīng)，因為它被我們祖先的鮮血所滲透，只有我們的赤足才更能感受到它那充滿憐惜的觸摸。我們已逝的勇士，多情的母親，歡欣的少女，甚至還有僅僅在這里生長嬉戲過一段短短的美好歲月的孩子們，都熱戀著這一片黯淡荒寂的土地，并在夜幕降臨之時，迎接那些蒙蒙的族人之魂飄然而歸。當(dāng)最后一個紅種人死去，白人對這個部落的回憶已經(jīng)成為神話之時，這里的海岸仍將聚集著我們族人無形的靈魂；當(dāng)你們的子孫以為他們獨自在田野、倉庫、商店、公路或寂靜的、無路可通的森林中時， 他們也絕非孤身一人。大地之上沒有任何地方是真正孤寂的；夜深人靜，當(dāng)你們城鎮(zhèn)或村莊的街道悄然入夢他們過去曾住在這里，他們?nèi)匀粺釔圻@塊美麗的土地。白 人永遠(yuǎn)不會獨占這個地方。 愿他公平、正直、善意地對待我的族人，因為死者并不是無能為力的。我說他們是死者嗎？不，世上并沒有“死亡”一說，他們只是去了我另外一個世界。The “Alternate Statement” of Chief SeattleYonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. Today is fair. Tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds. My words are like the stars that never change. Whatever Seattle says, the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty as he can upon the return of the sun or the seasons.The white chief says that Big chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill. This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return. His people are many. They are like the grass that covers vast prairies. My people are few. They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-wept plain. The great and I presumegood, White Chief sends us word that he wishes to buy our lands but is willing to allow us enough to live comfortably. This indeed appears just, even generous, for the Red Man no longer has right that he need respect, and the offer may be wise also, as we are no longer in need of an extensive country.There was a time when our people covered the land as the waves of a wind-ruffled sea cover its shell-paved floor, but that time long since passed away with the greatness of tribes that are now but a mournful memory. I will not dwell on, nor mourn over, our untimely decay, nor reproach my paleface brothers with hastening it, as we too may have been somewhat to blame.Youth is impulsive. When our young men grow angry at some real or imaginary wrong, and disfigure their faces with black paints, it denotes that their hearts are black, and that they are often cruel and relentless, and our old man and old women are unable to restrain them. Thus it has ever been. Thus it was when the white man began to push our forefathers ever westward. But let us hope that the hostilities between us may never return. We would have everything to lose and nothing to gain. Revenge by young men is considered gain, even at the cost of their own lives, but old men who stay at home in times of war, and mothers who have sons to lose, know better.Our good father in Washington for I presume he is now our father as well as yours, since King George has moved his boundaries further northour great and good father, I say, sends us word that if we do as he desires he will protect us. His brave warriors will be to us a bristling wall of strength, and his wonderful ships of war will fill our harbors, so that our ancient enemies far to the northwardthe Haidas and Tsimshians, will cease to frighten our women, children, and old men. He in reality he will be our father and we will be his children.But can that ever be? Your God is not our God! Your God loves your people and hates mine! He folds his strong protecting arms lovingly about the palefaces and leads him by the hand as a father leads an infant son. But, He has forsaken His Red children, if they really are His.Our God, the Great Spirit, seems also to have forsaken us. Your God makes your people wax stronger every day. Soon they will fill all the land. Our people are ebbing away like a rapidly receding tide that will never return. The white mans God cannot love our people or he would protect them. They seem to be orphans who can look nowhere for help. How then can we be brothers? How can your God become our God and renew our prosperity and awaken in us dreams of returning greatness?If we have a common Heavenly Father He must be partial, for He came to His paleface children. We never saw him. He gave you laws but had no word for His red children whose teeming multitudes once filled this vast continent as stars fill the firmament. No, we are two distinct races with separate origins and separate destinies. There is little in common between us.To us the ashes of our ancestors are scared and their resting place is hallowed ground. You wonder far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret.Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by the iron finger of your God so that you could not forget. The Red Man could never comprehend or remember it. Our religion is the traditions of our ancestorsthe dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems, and is written in the hearts of our people.Your dead cease to love you and the land of their nativity as soon as they pass the portals of the tomb and wander away beyond the stars. They are soon forgotten and never return. Our dead never forget this beautiful world that gave them being. They still love its verdant valleys, its murmuring rivers, its magnificent mountains, sequestered vales and verdant lined lakes and bays, and ever yearn in tender fond affection over the lonely hearted living, and often return from the happy hunting ground to visit, guide, console, and comfort them.Day and night cannot dwell together. The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man, as the morning mist flees before the morning sun. However, your proposition seems fair and I think that my people will accept it and will retire to the reservation you offer them. Then we will dwell apart in peace, for the words of the Great White Chief seem to be words of nature speaking to my people out of dense darkness.It matters little where we pass the remnant of out days. They will not be many. The Indians night promises to be dark. Not a single star of hope hovers above his horizon. Sad voiced winds moan in the distance. Grim fate seems to be on the Red Mans trail, and wherever he will hear the approaching footsteps of his fell destroyer and prepare stolidly to meet his doom, as does the wounded doe that hears the approaching footsteps of the hunter.A few more moons, a few more winters, and not one of the descendants of the mighty hosts that once moved over this broad land or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit, will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours. But why should I mourn at the untimely fate of my people? Tribe follows tribe, and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless. Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come, for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as friend with friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We will see.We will ponder your proposition and when decide we will let you know. But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is scared in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because i