NARRATOR
Who rides so late through night and wind?It is a father with his child;He has the boy close to his arm, He holds him tight, he keeps him warm.
FATHER
"My son, why do you hide your face in fear?"
SON
"Father, don't you see the Erlking?The Erlking with his crown and train?"
FATHER
"My son, it is a streak of mist."
ERLKING
"You dear child, come with me!I'll play very lovely games with you.There are lots of colorful flowers by the shore;My mother has some golden robes."
SON
"My father, my father, and don't you hearThe Erlking whispering promises to me?"
FATHER
"Be still, be calm, my child;It's the wind rustling the dry leaves."
ERLKING
"My fine lad, do you want to come with me?My daughters will take care of you;My daughters lead the nightly dance,and they'll rock and dance and sing you to sleep."
SON
"My father, my father, and don't you seeThe Erlking daughter's over there in the shadows?"
FATHER
"My son, my son, I see it clearly,It's the gray sheen of the old willows."
ERLKING
"I love you, your beautiful form delights me!And if you're not willing, then I'll use force."
SON
"My father, my father, now he's grasping me!The Erlking has hurt me!"
NARRATOR
The father shudders, he rides swiftly,He holds the moaning child in his arms;With effort and urgency he reaches the courtyard:In his arms the child was dead.