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Decej he$e
ÛeerHeâ efmeSšue
Web of LifeChief Seattle
Decej he$e
ÛeerHeâ efmeSšue
ceje"er DevegJeeo
MeesYee YeeieJele
ke=âle%elee -
DejefJebo ieghlee
DeeYeej -
«eeefHeâkeäme :
Sve.yeer.šer.
DeYeÙe kegâceej Pee
cegõkeâ : efm›eâhš Deeš&
914 meoeefMeJe hes",
hegCes - 411 030.
ØekeâeMeveJe<e& : 2005
cetuÙe : ®. 15/-
meewpevÙe -
jcesMe iejJeejs Ûe@efjšer š^mš
Web of LifeBy Chief Seattle
Marathi translationShobha Bhagwat
Special Thanks :Arvind Gupta
Thanks -Graphics :N. B. T.Abhay Kumar Jha
Printed at : Script Art914 Sadashiv Peth,Pune - 411 030.
Nearly 150 years ago, Chief Seattle,a wise and respected Red NativeChief delivered this compellingmessage to the government inWashington, which wanted to buy hispeople’s land. This is perhaps themost eloquent statement ever madeon the environment.
How can you buy the sky ?Chief Seattle began.How can you own the rainand the wind ?My mother told me,Every part of this earth is sacred toour people.Every pine needle, every sandy shore.Every meadow and humming insect.All are holy in the memory of ourpeople.
My father said to me,I know the sap that coursesthrough the trees,as I know the blood that flowsthrough my veins.We are part of the earthand it is part of us.The perfumed flowers are oursisters.
ner ceeleer ne Deece¤ee¤e DebMe Deens. ner megiebOeer
Heg‚ueb Deece¤Ÿee yeefnCeer Deensle.
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9
The bear, the deer, the great eagle,these are our brothers.The rocky crests, the meadows, theponies - all belong to the same family.The voice of my ancestors said to me.The shining water that moves in thestreams and rivers is not simplywater, but the blood of yourgrandfather’s grandfather.Each ghostly reflection in the clearwaters of the lakes tell of thememories in the life of our people.
The water’s murmur is the voice of yourgreat - great grandmotherThe rivers are our brothers.They quench are thirst.They carry our canoes and feed our chil-dren.You must give to the rivers thekindness you would give to any brother.
The voice of my grandfather said to me.The air is precious. It shares itsspirit with all the life it supports.The wind that gives me my firstbreath also receives my last sigh.You must keep the land and air apartand sacred, as a place where one cango to taste the wind that issweetened by the meadow flowers.
When the last Red Man and Woman havevanished with their wilderness,and their memory is only the shadow of acloud moving across the prairie, will theshores and forest still be there ?Will there be any of the spirit of mypeople left ?My ancestors said to me, “This we know:The earth does not belong to us.We belong to the earth.”
The voice of my grandmothersaid to me,Teach your childrenwhat you have been taught.The earth is our mother.What befalls the earth befalls all thesons and daughters of the earth.
ceePeer Deepeer cnCeeueer nesleer,
let mJele: pes efMeke‚ueeme les¤e meieUb legPŸee
cegueebveener efMeke‚Je yejb !
ner OejCeer Deeheueer DeeF& Deens DeeefCe DeeF&¤eb
pes ke‚ener nesF&ue les¤e efle¤Ÿee ueske‚jeb¤eb
nesF&ue ! OejCeer megKeele jeefnueer lej efle¤eer
ueske‚jbner megKeer nesleerue.
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Hear my voice and the voice of myancestors, Chief Seattle said.The destiny of your people is amystery to us.What will happen when the buffaloare all slaughtered ?The wild horses tamed ?What will happen when the secret cornersof the forest are heavy with the scent ofmany men ?
When the view of the ripe hills isblotted by talking wires ?Where will the thicket be ? Gone.Where will the eagle be ? Gone.And what will happen when we saygood - bye to the swift ponyand the hunt ?It will be the end of livingand the beginning of survival.
This we all know:All things are connected like theblood that unites us.We did not weave the web of life,We are merely a strand in it.Whatever we do to the web,we do to ourselves.We love this earth as a newborn loveshis mother’s heartbeat.
If we sell you the land, care for it as wehave cared for it.Hold in your mind the memory of the landas it is when you receive it.Preserve the land and the air and therivers for your children’s childrenand love it as we have loved it.