In 1854 the "Great White" in Washington (the president of the United States) will offer 'to buy a part of Indian territory and promised to establish national a "reservation" for Indian people. Here is the reply of "Chief Seattle", still considered the most 'beautiful, the most' profound statement ever made on the environment.
(a Native American Prophecy CHAPTER Sealth of Seattle): "When did you first met you told us that we should pray to your God We could not understand your request. Your God can never be ours. There is too much difference between us. We kill animals and eat them all we need. You kill for no reason and abandoned the bodies of animals who have shot down. You cut entire forests and we use only the fallen branches and dead trees and we respect for each pine needle. You break rocks, drilled the mountains and fail to listen to the spirit of the earth that says, "Do not do it. Do not make me bad. " We feel the spirit and mystery of life, even in the wings of dragonflies. You are blind and deaf to the things that exist and when you turn to God, ask for wealth, power and money. We ask the Great Spirit to show us the beauty, strangeness and beauty of the green earth, the 'single mother, and show us things in their essence and perfection, as only one Being, which remains one even if it is very . You forget your dead, and buried them there to keep care of their graves and do not feel tied to the land that preserves the bones of your fathers. For us, a man who forgets these things is worse than a beast angry. For all this you manage to sell the earth and for us the earth is like the 'air we breathe, the body of our mother and we can not even conceive that it can be sold, divided and fenced. Now my little people: we seem to remain the leaves on a tree shaken by the winds of winter and we can not defend ourselves. Now You send us a reservation that we should withdraw. I know that this solution is imposed on us by an ineluctable force. We have tried to escape as the morning mist flees forward in the light of the rising sun ... We are now few and we do not care to know where we will spend the rest of our days. Our nation was once strong and powerful and now little recently died. Our nights are getting longer, dark and lonely. Everywhere we tried to take refuge from your hand chased exterminator and we have to endure the fate like a wounded animal and hunted by the hunter who wants to finish it. And yet I'm not complaining. We spent a long time for 'happy existence of which we were aware, and from which we draw joy and wealth of' mind. For a tribe follows a 'and other nations follow nations as a generation happens to' other. It 's a constant birth and death and complaining is useless. Perhaps the day of your sunset is not far, but it is certain to come. Then maybe we can be brothers. Now is the vostra stagione tuttavia, e poiché ciò appare evidente, tagliate gli alberi, uccidete gli animali, domate i cavalli selvaggi, sterminate gli indiani. Io vedo bene, dai vostri occhi e dai vostri comportamenti, che la vostra città produce immondizie ed esse, un giorno, vi annegheranno. Ma intanto consentitemi di ribadire che la terra che ci ordinate di abbandonare è sacra alla mia gente. Ogni collina, monte, bosco, lago, fiume o valle o pianura sono pieni di eventi tristi e lieti e di ricordi. I fili d'erba, i piccoli gigli lungo i fiumi d'argento, le fragole che crescono ai margini dei prati coperti di rugiada, persino le pietre che giacciono sorde e immobili nella quiete fresca della notte e nel calore diurno, hanno bevuto la vita del and told my people 'have returned. The dust is linked to the footsteps of our people and our feet are in it a familiarity that your feet will never have. She drank the blood of our fathers, and contains the salt of their tears, grease and ashes of the campfires, the sweat of pleasure and fear. Our warriors disappeared, the girls kind-hearted and lovely shapes, the kids who lived there and found food, our mothers are living part fond of these places that still appease the lonely heart. And they always come back as a mark of spirit when the New Moon, a small silver canoe, sail among the stars surrounded by a mist of silver foxes. They continue their lives without the burden the body because the impulses of a people they continue to exist after the death of the individual and focus on his land and the bridge of human life. And so, even when the 'India is dead last and the memory of my people will become a legend for whites, this land will house more invisible forms of our dead. The children of your children will believe only in the fields, in homes, on the streets of your city or in the silence of the pathless woods. But even when, at night, the streets and squares will be silent and deserted, will be around wherever the spirits of those who once inhabited and loved this wonderful country. (...) You will not realize all of this. But one day our spirit will fill of your own descendants. One day, I said, because now you seem incapable of a sentiment that is not the 'hatred: the' hate and fear, urging you to actions that not only have to order the destruction of others, but also yours. L 'hatred and fear that prevent you from understanding that the human race is like the sun and that the people are the spokes and that when people die the sun begins to die and the earth becomes colder. L 'hatred and fear that do not give you the recognition that animal species are the roots that unite heaven and earth and that man can not cut if he does not want to die. We hope that in future the spirit of 'red man, with love and reverence that respects all living things, is impossessi lentamente dei vostri figli e penetri lentamente in coloro che nulla sanno di lui. Cercate perciò di guardare alla nostra fine con rispetto e tolleranza. I nostri padri, noi stessi staremo sempre intorno a voi e attenderemo con pazienza fino a che non riusciamo a piantare nella vostra indole distruttiva un seme di amore per la vita. Se ciò accadrà, il vostro mondo sparirà e il nostro tornerà a vivere. Ma forse non riusciremo a far ciò. E allora, quando una ragnatela di fili che sussurrano avrà circondato l' azzurro del cielo, quando il rondone sarà scomparso e la vita sarà diventata sopravvivenza, quando i fiumi saranno morti con i laghi e le montagne, quando il vostro folle modo di vivere avrà sommerso la terra, UN GRANDE FUOCO SIMILE AD UN SOLE, che voi stessi avrete costruito nella vostra ansia di distruzione e di dominio, cadrà dal cielo e distruggerà ogni cosa, e la terra e gli uomini saranno pietra per sempre".
