I’ve been puttering away at translating some short items from one of the radical socialist almanacs available online. This evening, I’ve posted an article on “Worker Mortality,” by Paule Mink, and an obituary of Emile Digeon, the hero of the Narbonne Commune and theorist of “rational anarchism.” There are quite a number of other interesting items in the Almanach de la Question Sociale. I’m working on a letter about Louise Michel at the moment [now complete], and I’ll probably return to a couple of other items by Paule Mink and Louise Michel as time allows.
Working Translations
Louise Michel, “Old Abraël” (1888)
LE VIEIL ABRAEL LEGENDE DU VINGTIEME SIECLE Le vingtième siècle allait finir. Les nations, à l’étroit dans le froide Europe, avaient largement essaimé sur le globe. Partout s’élevaient de nouvelles villes, grandissaient de jeunes peuples, se retrempaient les anciennes races. Les émigrés sur les chauds continents avaient recouvré, avec un climat sans hiver, l’énergie de leur origine, il n’y avait plus de place pour le désert. En Afrique, les sables avaient fait place à une vaste mer renversée artificiellement dans son lit primitif et qui rafraîchissait l’air, l’emplissant de vie, au lieu d’y répandre des souffles desséchants ; des canaux l’unissaient […]
Working Translations
Louise Michel, “Today or Tomorrow” (on Ravachol, 1892)
[Here’s another of the articles written shortly after Ravachol’s execution, in which Louise Michel added her bit to the Ravachol myth. There was a good deal of reference between the various contributions to L’Endehors. Michel began her article with a line from an article by Zo d’Axa and references Gustave Mathieu’s “The Little Ravachols will Grow.” This working translation is a little rough, but I’ll be finishing these as a group.] Today or Tomorrow. Louise Michel Everything is good which strikes or stings.[1] So much the better if these bandits have finished their work. The scaffold has started the party, […]
Black and Red Feminism
Paule Mink, “Broken Arm” (1895)
Picked up in the street, one morning, between a pile of rubbish and some rubble from demolition, abandoned like a small cat someone wants to be rid of, he was carried to the alms-house, and then placed among some farmers who raised him, giving him bread, in exchange, when he got to be a little bigger, for a labor that was very hard for a child, but who never had for him either affection or caresses.