It's title, Erlkönig (literally: Alderking) was later used as a term for camouflaged prototypes of new automobiles, which, still in development, were being secretively tested of the streets, and of which one could catch a fleeting glance or make a blurry photograph of, only to have people doubt what you saw.
The defining line, "And if you are not willing, I shall employ force!" was cited by generations of Germans wresting with uncooperative artifacts (and people).
It is a short ballad about a father desperately trying to reach home on a horse through a forest in the dead of night, holding his fevering, deliriously moaning and dying young boy under his cloak (note the steady escalation of both coercion and violence).
Here's what every German used to know by heart (and ridicule):
The Ballad of Alderking
(Or, if you will, the King of Elves)
By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1782
Who's riding, so late, through the wind and night?
It is the father, bearing his child.
He's holding the youngster well in his arm,
He is holding him tightly, he is keeping him warm.
- My son, why do you so cower in fear?
- Don't you, my father, see Alderking there?
The Alderking, with crown and with veil?
- My son, that's just a foggy trail.
"You darling child, come, go with me!
Such pretty games I shall play with thee.
Colorful flowers bloom on the shore,
My mother will offer you clothing of gold."
- My father, my father, do you not hear
What Alderking silently promises me?
- Be still, my child, be calm, those have been
Some dry leaves, barren, rustling in the wind.
"My fair young lad, won't you go with me?
My daughters will gleefully wait on thee.
My daughters, they lead in nocturnal reign,
They sing and dance, and they'll cradle you fine."
- My father, my father, do you not see
The Alderking's daughters, there, waiting for me?
- My son, my son, I will truthfully say:
Some old pollard willows are shimmering grey!
"I love you, my boy, your beauty tempts me,
And if you're not willing, I'll violate thee!"
- My father, my father, he is touching me now,
The Alderking has done me some woe...
The father is frightened, he rides as if wild,
He holds in his arms the suffering child.
And reaching the homestead with faltering stride
He finds, in his arms, that the child, it has died.
There are quite a few planes of interpretation here
- The translation of spooky surroundings into real dread (on the side of the father) and death (of the child)
- The steady escalation of coercion and violence by a third party as experienced by the (pre- pubescent) boy; first he is adressed by the Alderking as a "darling child" and offered wonderous games, then, strangely, colorful flowers on some unexplained shore, then golden clothes (invoking the King's mother, no less!); a classic scenery of child abduction, an attempt at purloining and coaxing the child away from his father, who is still clinging him tightly, all the while the child is already slipping away into ever more pychedelic hallucinations.
- That attempt having failed, he is then called a "fair young lad" (orig. "feiner Knabe") by the Alderking, and offered the nocturnal company of his daughters, a clear update into puberty; and when he doesn't accept that offer either, and instead again turns to his father for help, he is finally called "beautiful in body" (orig. "schöne Gestalt") and "tempting"; and, under that pretext, and still not willing, he is finally violated and killed by the enraged and scorned Alderking with the words "I love you". After first selling something and others (games and flowers, his mother, his daughters), Alderking finally reveals that it was personal from the beginning.
Of course, I do not know if this escalation into pubescence was intentional, but it certainly is conspicuous and striking (and Goethe being Goethe, I even suppose it was).
- The rising agitation, panic, helplessness, and loss of control of the situation on the side of the father, who either has no clue what is going on, or indeed does know, but has no choice but to carry on, only to lose his child to forces stronger than himself, mirrors the rising helplessness of the child, who does not know what is going on either, but is forced to experience it in absolute terror.
Going back to the poem, note that we do not learn why the two are away from home, and what happened before; perhaps the child was sick and they had visited a doctor, or the child was previously healthy and became sick away from home, or perhaps the trip itself is killing it, despite all attempts of the father to "keep him safe and warm".
Some say that the child is dying because of the terror of his hallucinations; others, that the boy sees the Alderking on account of his fever and then dies of it, unrelated; but to go further, as a non-German acquaintance of mine did, and say: "because he is already dying" - that's stark:
It would mean that the Alderking and his company are a manifestation of death itself in the mind of the dying boy, conjuring up images not of the life he had, but the illusions of a life he will never have: maturity, companions, happiness, music, gayety, dancing and wealth - things he may have had a vague imprinted picture of, or seen in others, but never experienced, being simply too young to have been able to do so.
Is this torture by death, or, as my acquaintance thought, to facilitate the transition to the other side, or just an emptying of the wishes and expectations of a young boy hitherto and beyond, in the agony of a dying child? Or perhaps all of these things?
First the promises of beauty, then of companionship, even of love, then the threat of immediate violation of the terrified and unwilling ("as the choice is not yours") and its execution in the form of the touch and kiss of death in all it's inevitability:
The boy does not die because he sees the Alderking, he sees the Alderking because he is dying.
Perhaps this is universal: In conscious dying, or perhaps even beyond, you realize the life that could and should have been - in a child, the missed future, in an adult, the missed past.
Addendum 2025:
Here's an attempt by GROK 3 beta 'tin brain' at translating this poem - and not bad at all.
In very few seconds, too!
To be fair:
Line 11 is great, but
Line 18 is what I am truly jealous of.
Translation of Der Erlkönig
Who rides so late through night’s dark gale?
A father with his son, so frail.
He clasps the boy in arms so tight,
And keeps him warm through stormy night.
“My son, why hide your face in fear?”
“See, Father, there—the Erlking’s near!
The Erlking with his crown and train!”
“My son, it’s mist that swirls the plain.”
“Dear child, come, go with me away!
Such lovely games we’ll play today.
Bright flowers bloom on yonder shore,
My mother’s gold shall clothe thee more.”
“My father, father, hear him call!
The Erlking’s voice—it chills my soul!”
“Be calm, my child, stay calm, I pray,
It’s but the wind through leaves at play.”
“Sweet boy, will you not come with me?
My daughters fair shall wait on thee.
My daughters sing through all the night,
And dance to soothe thee with delight.”
“My father, father, can’t you see?
His daughters there—they beckon me!”
“My son, my son, I see it plain,
It’s willows gray that gleam in rain.”
“I love thee, child, thy form so fair,
And if thou wilt not, force I’ll bear!”
“My father, father, now his hand!
The Erlking grips me where I stand!”
The father rides with fearful dread,
He holds his groaning boy to bed.
With toil and haste, he reaches home—
In his arms, the child was dead, his own.
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