※ [本文轉錄自 togy 信箱]
作者: togy.bbs@newage.stat.tku.edu.tw
標題: 西雅圖酋長演講稿 中譯本 by Dannia
時間: Tue Mar 23 12:13:00 1999
發信人: Dannia.bbs@taif.adm.ntu.edu.tw (象牙塔頂的吟遊詩人), 看板: Gaia
標 題: 西雅圖酋長演講稿 中譯本 by Dannia
發信站: Newage BBS (Sat Jun 21 21:39:09 1997)
轉信站: newage2!newage
* 1997-3-10 Dannia 譯(參照版本二)
西雅圖酋長的信
你怎能買賣天空、土地的溫馨？這對我們是個不可思議的想法。
你怎能買下它們？每一寸土地對我的同胞來說都是神聖的。每根閃亮
的松針、每片沙灘、每陣密林間的薄霧、每隻潔淨的鳴蟲，在我族的記憶
與經驗中都是聖潔的。樹木之中流動的汁液就蘊含了我族的記憶與經驗。
樹的汁液涵蘊紅人的回憶。當離世走入星空，白人的死者就忘卻了孕
育他們的故鄉。我族的死者永不遺忘這美麗的大地，因為，它是紅人共同
的母親。我們是土地的一部份，土地也是我們的一部份。馨香的花是我們
的姊妹，鹿、馬、大鷹都是我們的弟兄。崢嶸的山峰、牧草的汁液、小馬
的體熱，還有人，全都屬於同一個大家庭。
所以，當華盛頓的大酋長通知我族，說他想購買我族的土地時，他是
對我族作了個重大的要求。白人大酋長承諾他將為我族保留一塊地，讓我
族得以舒適地生活。他將要當我族共同的父親而我們將成為他的子民。我
族將考慮你們購地的要求。但這並非可以輕易決定的。因為對我族來說，
土地是如此的神聖。
這溪、河中晶瑩的流水不僅是普通的水，也是我族祖先的血液。若我
族將土地賣給你們，你們必須謹記那溪河是我族先人的聖血。若我族將土
地賣給你們，你們必須謹記那是神聖的，而且你們必須教導子孫：它是神
聖的而清澈湖水中朦朧的倒影述說著我族生活的種種。潺潺的水聲是我父
親他父親的低語。河流，我們的兄弟，為我們解渴。河流乘載我族的獨木
舟也餵養我們的孩子。若我族將土地賣給你們，你們必須記得要教導你們
的孩子，河流是我們的，也是你們的兄弟，不僅如此，你們還必須善待河
流，就如你們善待我的兄弟。
我族明白，白人不懂得我們的生活方式。一塊地和另一塊對一個白人
來說都是一樣的，因為他只是趁夜而來取走所需的陌生人。土地不是他的
兄弟，而是他的仇敵，當他征服了一塊土地，他又再向前去征服另一塊。
他將父親的墳塚拋在背後，而他毫不在乎。他向他的子孫劫奪大地，而他
毫不在乎。先人的墳墓與後代的生存權都被他忘卻了。他待他的母親–大
地與他的弟兄–河流，都一樣，都像綿羊和珠串那些可以購買、掠奪、販
賣的物品一樣。他的慾望將會吞噬大地而僅僅留下一片荒漠。
我實在不懂。我們的生活方式與你們的方式是不同的。你們都市的景
觀刺痛紅人的雙眼。但這或許只因為紅人是野蠻的而不了解。白人的都市
裡沒有安靜的地方。沒有一處能聽到葉子在春天展開或昆蟲沙沙地摩擦翅
翼的聲響。但這或許只因為我是個野蠻人而不了解。機械的轟鳴聽起來只
猶如對聽覺的侮辱。而如果一個人聽不到怪鴟孤獨的號叫或是池畔群蛙的
爭鳴，那算什麼生活。我是一個紅人，我不懂。印第安人們喜歡的是掃過
湖面的疾風，那種被中午的雨滌淨或帶著松香的風。
珍 貴 的
對紅人來說，空氣是珍貴的，因為所有的生物都分享同樣的氣息，野
獸、樹木、人類都分享著同樣的氣息。白人看來從不注意他所呼吸的空氣
。他麻木而惡臭，像極了死去好幾天的人。但是若我族把土地賣給你們，
你們必得謹記空氣對我們是珍貴的，空氣與所有它維持的生命分享它的靈
。賜與我們祖父第一口氣的風也接納了他最後的嘆息。若我族把土地賣給
你們，你們必須將它和你們原有的地分開並保持它的神聖，讓它成為就算
是白人都能夠感受到帶著甜美的草原花香的風的地方。
我們將會考慮你們購買土地的要求。如果我們決定接受，我要附帶要
求：白人必須如待他兄弟般地善待這土地上的野獸。我是個野蠻人而我不
知道有更好的方式。到現在為止我已經見過數千隻在大草原上腐爛的水牛
，都是乘火車經過的白人射殺的。我是個野蠻人，而我實在不了解何以那
吐著濃煙的鐵馬會被當作比我們只為維生而獵殺的水牛重要。
沒有野獸，人會怎樣？如果所有的野獸都滅絕了，人可能會因性靈上
的嚴重孤寂而死去。因為發生在野獸身上的，很快會發生在人身上。所有
的生物都是命運相繫的。你們必須教你們的孩子，他們腳下的土地就是我
族先人的骨灰。使得他們尊敬大地，告訴你們的孩子土地因我們親族的生
命而豐饒。教導你們的孩子如我族教給孩子的：大地是我們的母親。
發生在大地身上的也會發生在大地的孩子身上。如果一個人向土地吐
痰，他就是在向自己吐痰。我們了解：土地不屬於人所有，人才屬於土地
。我們很清楚。所有的生物都是像整合一個家族的血緣一樣相繫的。所有
的生物都聯結在一起。
發生在大地身上的也會發生在大地的孩子身上。並不是人類在織造生
命之網，他只不過是其中的一條線而已。他對這網作了什麼，他就對自己
作了什麼。
就算是上帝與他像朋友一樣同行、對話的白人，也沒法倖免於共同的
命運。最終我們將會是兄弟。我們將看到。我族已知而白人終有一日會發
現，我們（白人與紅人）的上帝是同一位上帝。你們現在可能認為你們擁
有祂，就如你們想要擁有我族的土地，但是你作不到的。祂是全人類的上
帝，而祂對紅人與白人的慈愛是毫無分別的。大地是祂所珍愛的，傷害大
地就是在累積對其創造者的輕蔑。白人們也會銷亡，或許比其他種族還快
。但在你們衰落的過程中，你們將光芒閃耀，因為被引領你們來到這裡又
為著某些特殊理由賜予你們宰制這塊土地與紅人的權那位上帝的大能所激
勵。命運對我族來說是不可解的，因為我們不知道當野牛被屠盡、野馬被
馴服、森林隱密的角落充塞著人的體味，而山丘的景觀被電話線嚴重汙染
後會怎樣。
灌木叢在哪？全沒了。
大鷹在哪？全沒了。
這是生活的結束與掙扎求生的開始。
--
※ 發信站: 批踢踢實業坊(ptt.twbbs.org)
◆ From: dialup09.tpe.nc
> -------------------------------------------------------------------------- <
作者: togy (風平如水)
標題: [轉錄]Chief Seattle's Statement
時間: Tue Mar 23 12:20:10 1999
※ [本文轉錄自 togy 信箱]
作者: togy.bbs@newage.stat.tku.edu.tw
標題: Chief Seattle's Statement
時間: Tue Mar 23 12:13:07 1999
作者: Gene (【食夢黑貘】) 看板: Gaia
標題: Chief Seattle's Statement
時間: Thu Apr 23 00:21:55 1998
How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the
land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of
the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them?
Every part of the Earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine
needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every
clear and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my
people. The sap which courses through the trees carries the memory
of red man.
The white man's dead forget the country of their birth when they go
to walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful
Earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are part of the
Earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters,
the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The
rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony,
and the man, all belong to the same family.
So, when the Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to
buy our land, he asks much of us. The Great White Chief sends word
he will reserve us a place so that we can live comfortably to
ourselves. He will be our father and we will be his children.
So we will consider your offer to buy land. But it will not be
easy. For this land is sacred to us. This shining water that moves
in streams and rivers is not just water but the blood of our
ancestors. If we sell you land, you must remember that it is
sacred, and you must teach your children that it is sacred and that
each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of
events in the life of my people. The waters murmur is the voice of
my father's father.
The rivers of our brothers they quench our thirst. The rivers carry
our canoes and feed our children. If we sell you our land, you must
remember to teach your children that the rivers are our brothers,
and yours, and you must henceforth give the rivers the kindness
that you would give my brother.
We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One
portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a
stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he
needs. The Earth is not his brother, but his enemy and when he has
conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his father's graves behind,
and he does not care. He kidnaps the Earth from his children, and
he does not care. His father's grave, and his children's birthright
are forgotten. He treats his mother, the Earth, and his brother,
the same, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or
bright beads. His appetite will devour the Earth and leave behind
only a desert.
I do not know. Our ways are different from yours ways. The sight of
your cities pains the eyes of the red man. But perhaps it is
because the red man is a savage and does not understand. There is
no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the
unfurling of leaves in spring, or the rustle of an insect's wings.
But perhaps it is because I am a savage and do not understand. The
clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if
a man cannot hear the lonely cry of a whippoorwill or the arguments
of the frogs around a pond at night. I am a red man and do not
understand. The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting
over the face of the pond, and the smell of the wind itself,
cleansed by a midday rain, or scented with the pinon pine.
The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same
breath - the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same
breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes.
Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench. But if we
sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to
us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.
The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives
his last sigh. And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart
and sacred, as a place where even the white man can go to taste the
wind that is sweetened by the meadow's flowers. So we will consider
your offer to buy our land. If we decide to accept, I will make one
condition - the white man must treat the beasts of this land as his
brothers. I am a savage and do not understand any other way. I have
seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white
man who shot them from a passing train. I am a savage and do not
understand how the smoking iron horse can be made more important
than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive. What is man
without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from
a great loneliness of the spirit. For whatever happens to the
beasts, soon happens to man. All things are connected.
You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is
the ashes of our grandfathers. So that they will respect the land,
tell your children that the Earth is rich with the lives of our
kin. Teach your children what we have taught our children, that the
Earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the Earth befalls the sons of
the Earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.
This we know - the Earth does not belong to man - man belongs to
the Earth. This we know. All things are connected like the blood
which unites one family. All things are connected. Whatever befalls
the Earth - befalls the sons of the Earth. Man did not weave the
web of life - he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the
web, he does to himself. Even the white man, whose God walks and
talks with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the
common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We shall see. One
thing we know, which the white man may one day discover - Our God
is the same God.
You may think now that you own Him as you wish to own our land, but
you cannot. He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for
red man and the white. The Earth is precious to Him, and to harm
the Earth is to heap contempt on its Creator. The whites too shall
pass, perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Contaminate your bed,
and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.
But in your perishing you will shine brightly, fired by the
strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some
special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red
man.
That destiny is a mystery to us, for we do not understand when the
buffalo are slaughtered, the wild horses tamed, the secret corners
of the forest heavy with scent of many men, and the view of the
ripe hills blotted by talking wires.
Where is the thicket? Gone.
Where is the Eagle? Gone.
The end of living and the beginning of survival.