《这片土地是神圣的》一文的背景资料在教参中已经讲了，现在把两篇译文及英文原文帖在这里，供大家参考。
译文一
总统从华盛顿捎信来说，想购买我们的土地。但是，土地、天空、河流……怎能出卖呢？这个想法对我们来说，真是太不可思议了。正如不能说新鲜的空气和闪光的水波仅仅属于我们而不属于别人一样，又怎么可以买卖它们呢？
这里的每一寸土地，对我的人民来说都是神圣的。那怕是一根发亮的松针，一块海滩的砂砾，一片林中的云雾，一颗清晨的露珠，还是一只鸣唱的小虫，所有这一切，在我们人民的记忆和现实中都是神圣的。
我们熟悉树液流经树干，正如血液流经我们的血管一样。我们是大地的一部分，大地也是我们的一部分。芬芳的花朵是我们的姐妹，麋鹿、骏马、雄鹰是我们的兄弟，山岩、草地、动物和人类全属于一个家庭。
大河小溪中闪闪发光的不仅仅是水，那也是我们祖先的血液。如果我们放弃这片土地，转让给你们，你们必须记住：土地是神圣的。清澈湖水中的每一个倒影，都反映着我们人民中的历史事件和生活历程。那潺潺的流水声，便是我们祖辈的亲切呼唤。
河流也是我们的兄弟，它解除我们的干渴，运载我们的独木舟，哺乳着我们和我们的子孙。因此你们必须像对待自几己的兄弟一样，给予河流以慈爱。
如果我们放弃这片土地，转让给你们。你们必须记住：就如同空气一样，对我们所有的生命都是宝贵的，它给了我们祖先的第一次呼吸，也接受了他的最后一声叹息；同样的，又将给我们每个子孙以及所有的生命以灵魂，因此你们必须保持土地的神圣性，任何人都可以享受土地上的百花争艳和扑鼻馨香。
你们会教诲自己的孩子，就如同我们教诲自己的孩子那样吗？即土地是我们的母亲，土地所赐予我们的一切，也会赐予我们的子孙。
我们知道，人类属于大地，而大地不属于人类。世界上的万物都是相互关联的，就像血液把我们身体的各个部分联结在一起一样。生命之网并非人类所编织。人类不过是这个网络中的一根线一个结。但人类所做的一切，最终会影响到这个网络，也影响到人类本身。因为降临到大地上的一切，终将会降临到大地的儿女们身上。我们知道，我们的上帝也是你们的上帝。土地是上帝所创造的，也是上帝所宝贵的。我们伤害了大地，就是对造物主的亵渎。
你们的命运，对我们来说，是一个谜。可以设想一下，如果把所有的野牛杀光，把所有的野马驯化，那将是一种什么样的景象？如果原始森林中尽是人类的足迹，幽静的山谷中布满着横七竖八的电线，那将是一种什么样的景象？如果草丛灌木消失了，空中的雄鹰不见了，马匹和猎犬也失去了用场，那将是一种什么样的景象？这一切，只意味着真正生活的结束和苟延残喘的开始。
当最后一个印第安人与荒野一同消失，他们的记忆就像草原的云影一样在空中浮动的时候，这些湖岸和森林还会存在吗？我们的灵魂还会存在吗？
我们热爱大地，就像出生的婴儿热爱母亲心脏跳动的声音一样。所以，如果我们放弃这片土地，转让给你们，你们就要像我们一样地热爱它，照管它。为了子孙后代，你们要始终不渝地献出地自己全部的力量、精神和感情来保护大地，就像上帝对我们大家所做的那样。
正像我们是大地的一部分一样，你们也是大地的一部分。土地对我们是珍贵的，对你们也是珍贵的。我们懂得一点：世界上只有一个上帝。没有人能够分开，无论是印第安人，还是白人，我们终究是兄弟。
译文二
《西雅图宣言》
印第安索瓜米西族酋长·西雅图
你怎能把天空、大地的温馨买下？我们不懂。
若空气失去了新鲜，流水失去了晶莹，你还能把它买下？
我们红人，视大地每一方土地为圣洁。在我们的记忆里，在我们的生命里，每一根晶亮的松板，每一片沙滩，每一撮幽林里的气息，每一种引人自省、鸣叫的昆虫都是神圣的。树液的芳香在林中穿越，也渗透了红人自亘古以来的记忆。
白人死后漫游星际之时，早忘了生他的大地。红人死后永不忘我们美丽的出生地。因为，大地是我们的母亲，母子连心，互为一体。绿意芬芳的花朵是我们的姊妹，鹿、马、大鹰都是我们的兄弟，山岩峭壁、草原上的露水、人身上、马身上所散发出的体热，都是一家子亲人。
华盛顿京城的大统领传话来说，要买我们的地。他要的不只是地。大统领说，会留下一块保护地，留给我们过安逸的日子。这么一来，大统领成了我们的父亲，我们成了他的子女。
我们会考虑你的条件，但这买卖不那么容易，因为，这地是圣洁的。溪中、河里的晶晶流水不仅是水，是我们世代祖先的血。若卖地给你，务请牢记，这地是圣洁的，务请教导你的子子孙孙，这地是圣洁的。湖中清水里的每一种映象，都代表一种灵意，映出无数的古迹，各式的仪式，以及我们的生活方式。流水的声音不大，但它说的话，是我们祖先的声音。
河流是我们的兄弟，它解我们的渴，运送我们的独木舟，喂养我们的子女。若卖地给你，务请记得，务请教导你的子女，河流是我们的兄弟，你对它，要付出爱，要周到，像爱你自己的兄弟一样。
白人不能体会我们的想法，这点，我知道。
在白人眼里，哪一块地都一样，可以趁夜打劫，各取所需，拿了就走。对白人来说，大地不是他的兄弟，大地是他的仇敌，他要一一征服。
白人可以把父亲的墓地弃之不顾。父亲的安息之地，儿女的出生之地，他可以不放在心上。在他看来，天、大地、母亲、兄弟都可以随意买下、掠夺，或像羊群或串珠一样卖出。他贪得无厌，大口大口吞食土地之后，任由大地成为片片荒漠。
我不懂。
你我的生活方式完全不同。红人的眼睛只要一看见你们的城市就觉疼痛。白人的城里没有安静，没地方可以听到春天里树叶摊开的声音，听不见昆虫振翅作乐的声音。城市的噪音羞辱我们的双耳。晚间，听不到池塘边青蛙在争论，听不见夜鸟的哀鸣。这种生活，算是活着？
我是红人，我不懂。
清风的声音轻轻扫过地面，清风的芳香，是经午后暴雨洗涤或浸过松香的，这才是红人所愿听愿闻的。
红人珍爱大气：人、兽、树木都有权分享空气，靠它呼吸。白人，似从不注意人要靠空气才能存活，像坐死多日的人，已不能辨别恶臭。若卖地给你，务请牢记，我们珍爱大气，空气养着所有的生命，它的灵力，人人有份。
风，迎着我祖父出生时的第一口气，也送走它最后一声的叹息。若卖地给你，务请将它划为圣地，使白人也能随着风尝到牧草地上加强的花香。
务请教导你的子女，让他们知道，脚下的土地，埋着我们祖先骨骸；教你子弟尊崇大地，告诉他们，大地因我们亲族的生命而得滋润；告诉他们，红人怎样教导子女，大地是我们的母亲，大地的命运，就是人类的命运，人若唾弃大地，就是唾弃自己。
我们确知一事，大地并不属于人；人，属于大地，万物相互效力。也许，你我都是兄弟。等着看，也许，有一天白人会发现：他们所信的上帝，与我们所信的神，是同一位神。
或许，你以为可以拥有上帝，象你买一块地一样。其实你办不到，上帝，是全人类的神，上帝对人类怜恤平等，不分红、白。上帝视大地为至宝，伤害大地就是亵渎大地的创造者。白人终将随风消失，说不定比其他种族失落的更快，若污秽了你的床铺，你必然会在自己的污秽中窒息。
肉身因岁月死亡，要靠着上帝给你的力量才能在世上灿烂发光，是上帝引领你活在大地上，是上帝莫明的旨意容你操纵白人。
为什么会有这种难解的命运呢？我们不懂。
我们不懂，为什么野牛都被戮杀，野马成了驯马，森林里布满了人群的异味，优美的山景，全被电线破坏、玷污。
丛林在哪里？没了！
大老鹰在哪里？不见了！
生命已到了尽头，
是偷生的开始。
（原载《山茶·人文地理杂志》第100期）
原文
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?
all sacred
every part of this earth is sacred to my people. every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every clearing and humming insect is holy in the memory and experience of my people. the sap which courses through the trees carries the memories of the 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 man - all belong to the same family.
not easy
so, when the great chief in washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land, he asks much of us. the great 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 our land. but it will not be easy. for this land is sacred to us. this shining water that moves in the 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 and memories in the life of my people. the water's murmur is the voice of my father's father.
all sacred
the rivers are our brothers, they quench our thirst. the rivers carry our canoes, and feed our children. if we sell you our land, you must remember, and teach your children, that the rivers are our brothers, and yours, and you must henceforth give the rivers the kindness you would give any 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 sky, 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 your 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 is because i am a savage and do not understand.
the clatter only seems rto insult the ears. and what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the 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 a pond, and the smell of the wind itself, cleaned by a midday rain, or scented with the pinon pine.
precious
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.
one condition
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 i 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 i do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be 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 spirit. for whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to man. all things are connected.
the ashes
you must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of your 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 the red man and the white. this 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 buffalos are all slaughtered, the wild horses are 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.
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