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Goethe

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The Erlking

Who rides so late when the night is wild?
It is the father with his child.
He holds the boy in the crook of his arm,
He clasps him safely, he keeps him warm.

My son, you hide your face in fear! –
O father, can’t you see him there?
The Erlking staring with crown and train. –
My son, there’s only the mist and rain.

“Lovely child, come, come with me,
Where flowers bloom on the banks of the sea.
There are beautiful things for us to do.
My mother has golden clothes for you.”

O father, father, didn’t you hear
The Erlking whispering in my ear? –
Lie quiet, my dear, the whole forest heaves,
It’s only the wind in the wintry leaves.

“Most handsome boy, I want you to come,
My daughters will give you a beautiful room,
My daughters will dance for you every night
And rock you and sing for your delight.”

O father, father, did you not see
The Erlking’s daughters beyond that tree? –
My son, my son, I saw them plain:
The old grey willows were blurred with rain.

“I love your shape; I know no remorse;
And if you won’t come, I’ll have you by force!”
O father, father, he’s grabbing me!
The Erlking has done me an injury.

The father shudders; his thoughts are wild;
He grips in his arm the panting child.
He spurs his horse and rides home with dread;
Cold in his arms, the boy was dead.

Translated by D. M. Black

Page(s) 12-13

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