Who rides so late through night and wind?
It's the father with his child
He holds the boy snugly in his arm
He grips him safely, he keeps him warm
"My son, why do you hide your face so anxiously?"
"Father, don't you see the Erlking?
The Erlking with crown and train?"
"My son, it's a strip of mist."
"Dear child, come, go with me!
Such pretty games I'll play with you
Many colored flowers are on the shore
My mother has many golden gowns."
"My father, my father, don't you hear
What the Erlking softly promises me?"
"Stay calm, keep calm, my child
The wind is rustling in dry leaves."
"Fine boy, will you come with me?
My daughters shall wait on you well
My daughters lead the nightly round
And rock and dance and sing you to sleep."
"My father, my father, don't you see there
The Erlking's daughters in that gloomy place?"
"My son, my son, I see it clear
The old gray willows appear so."
"I love you, your fair shape entices me
And if you're unwilling, I'll use force."
"My father, my father, now he's touching me!
The Erlking has hurt me!"
The father shudders, he rides swift
He holds the gasping child in his arms
He reaches the courtyard with strain and effort
Within his arms the child was dead