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