
Below is my ham-fisted English translation. I have no intention of re-writing the poem to make it rhyme in English. Hopefully I have captured the essence of the poem without making any egregious errors. Please feel free to make corrections in the comments.
–Jeff Burks
An Old Joiner to his Try Plane
For half a century, oh my dear try plane,
Thy wood hard and shiny, thy sharp iron gallops,
Pushed by my hands on my old workbench.
By thy constant assistance, ah! how I polished
Planks of pine, poplar, oak!
Quickly when thee take my arms for a stroll,
The coarsest and most resistant wood
Are now transformed into elegant furniture,
Into objects of every kind and any appearance.
From morning to evening we are present;
Together we walk an area bounded,
Four paces at most. At work confined,
For principal tool, you know, I chose you:
You were my livelihood, and I thank you.
But I am old, and I feel my strength failing.
My hand, which once led you without faltering,
Now I soon weary from thy weight.
Thyself, here you are very old and well worn.
Our long lease ends, and we will, shortly be
Discarded, one in the earth, and the other in the fire.




