Over all the peaks
it is peaceful,
in all the treetops
you feel
hardly a breath of wind;
the little birds are silent in the forest...
only wait - soon
you will rest as well.

You fill bush and valley again
quietly with a splendid mist
and finally set loose
entirely my soul.

You spread over my domain
gently your gaze,
as mildly as a friend's eye
over my fate.

Every echo my heart feels,
of happy and troubled times;
I alternate between joy and pain
in my solitude.

Flow, flow on, dear river!
Never shall I be cheerful,
so faded away have jokes and kisses become -
and faithfulness as well.

I possessed once
something so precious,
that, to my torment,
it can never be forgotten now.

Murmur, river, beside the valley,
without rest and calm;
murmur on, whispering for my song
your melodies,

whenever you, on winter nights,
ragingly flood over,
or, in the splendor of spring,
help swell young buds.

Blissful is he who, away from the world,
locks himself without hate,
holding to his heart one friend
and enjoying with him

that which is unknown to most men
or never contemplated,
and which, through the labyrinth of the heart,
wanders in the night.

 O give, dreaming from your soft pillow,
 half an ear to me!
 To my lute's playing
 you sleep! what more do you want?
 
 To my lute's playing
 the set of stars blesses
 eternal feelings;
 you sleep! what more do you want?
 
 Those eternal feelings
 lift me sublimely high,
 away from the earthly crowd;
 you sleep! what more do you want?
 
 Away from the earthly crowd
 you sever me only too abruptly,
 entrance me in this cool place;
 you sleep! what more do you want?
 
 You entrance me in this cool place,
 give me your ear only in your dreams.
 Ah, on your soft pillow
 you sleep! what more do you want?

 My neighbour is
 a wonderful maiden!
 Early in the morning when I am in the workshop,
 how I love to gaze up at her window-shutters.
 
 I hammer at my rings and chains
 with fine gold links.
 Ah, I think, when, and again, when
 will such a ring be for my Kathy?
 
 And when she first opens the shutters
 the entire city comes
 and haggles and shouts in showy crowds
 of all kinds of people, just beneath her window-shutter.
 
 I file away until I suddenly file right through
 a bunch of golden links!
 The master growls, the severe man!
 He notices it was because of the window-shutters.
 
 And quickly, when her tasks are done,
 she grasps her spinning wheel.
 I know well why she wishes to spin:
 my dear maiden is thinking about her hopes.
 
 Her little foot pumps and pumps;
 I think of her calf,
 and of the garter-belt
 that I gave to my dear maiden.
 
 And to her lips my treasure lifts
 a fine piece of thread.
 O if only I were in its place,
 how I would kiss my sweetheart!

So have I truly lost you?
Have you, o fair one, fled from me?
Yet still I can hear in my accustomed ears 
Every word, every tone of your voice.

Just as the wanderer's gaze in the morning
Searchingly pierces the heavens in vain
When, concealed in the blue expanse
High above, the lark sings to him:

So does my gaze anxiously search here and there,
Through field and bush and forest,
Singing to you through all my songs,
O come, my darling, back to me!

There was a King of Thule,
faithful to the grave,
to whom his dying beloved
gave a golden goblet.

Nothing was more valuable to him:
he drained it in every feast;
and his eyes would overflow
whenever he drank from it.

And when he neared death,
he counted the cities of his realm
and left everything gladly to his heir -
except for the goblet.

He sat at his kingly feast,
his knights about him,
in the lofty hall of ancestors,
there in the castle by the sea.

There, the old wine-lover stood,
took a last draught of life's fire,
and hurled the sacred goblet
down into the waters.

He watched it plunge, fill up,
and sink deep into the sea.
His eyes then sank closed
and he drank not one drop more.

The water roared, the water swelled;
a fisherman sat beside,
gazing calmly at his fishing line,
cool to his very heart.
And as he sits there and as he listens,
the waves split
and from the turbulent water
a watery woman bursts up.

She sang to him, and spoke to him:
"Why do you lure my children
with your human wit and cunning,
up here to this deadly glow?
Ah, if you only knew how pleasant the tiny fish
find it below the surface,
you would come down, just as you are,
and you would be well for the first time.

Does not the dear sun refresh itself
and the moon as well, in the sea?
Do they not turn their faces, breathing the waves
and thus becoming doubly fair?
Aren't you tempted by the deep sky,
the moist and transfiguring blue?
Aren't you tempted by your own face
shining in the eternal dew?"

The water roared, the water swelled,
and moistened his naked foot;
and his heart filled with the longing
that he felt at the greeting of his beloved.
She spoke to him, and sang to him;
then all was done for him;
half pulled by her and half sinking himself,
he went down and was never seen again.

Who's riding so late through night, so wild?
It is the father who's holding his child;
He's tucked the boy secure in his arm,
He holds him tight and keeps him warm.

My son, why hide you your face in fear?"
See you not, father, the Erl King near?
The Erl King in his crown and train?"
My son, 'tis but a foggy strain."

Sweet lovely child, come, go with me!
What wonderful games I'll play with thee;
Flowers, most colorful, yours to behold.
My mother for you has garments of gold."

My father, my father, and can you not hear
What Erl King is promising into my ear?"
Be calm, stay calm, o child of mine;
The wind through dried leaves is rustling so fine." 

Wouldst thou, fine lad, go forth with me?
My daughters should royally wait upon thee;
My daughters conduct each night their song fest
To swing and to dance and to sing thee to rest."

My Father, my father, and can you not see
Erl King's daughters, there by the tree?" 
My son, my son, I see it clear;
The ancient willows so grey do appear."  

I love thee, I'm aroused  by thy beautiful form;
And be thou not willing, I'll take thee by storm."
My father, my father, he's clutching my arm!
Erl King has done me a painful harm!"

The father shudders and onward presses;
The gasping child in his arms he caresses;
He reaches the courtyard, and barely inside,
He holds in his arms the child who has died.

 Ah lean down,
 you who are full of sorrow,
 incline your gracious face toward my distress!
 
 A sword in your heart,
 with a thousand agonies,
 you gaze at your dead son.
 
 You look up to His Father,
 and send up sighs
 for his and your misery.
 
 Who can feel
 how insidiously
 the pain eats my very bones?
 what my poor heart now dreads here,
 what makes it tremble and what it craves?
 Only you can know, only you alone!
 
 Wherever I go, all the time,
 how it aches, how I grieve 
 here inside my heart!
 Ah, I am hardly alone
 before I start weeping and weeping,
 my heart breaking within me.
 
 The flower-pots before my window
 I drenched with my tears, ah!
 when in early morning
 I brought you these flowers.
 
 When the sun shone brightly into my chamber
 early this morning,
 I was in complete misery, sitting up 
 in my bed already.
 
 Help! Rescue me from disgrace and death!
 Ah, lean down,
 you who are full of sorrow,
 incline your gracious face toward my distress!

 A young peasant
 The shepherd dressed up for the dance
 With a colouful jacket, ribbon and wreath;
 Dapper was his attire,
 There was already a crowd around the linden tree 
 And everyone was already dancing like mad.

 Chorus of peasants
 Hurrah! Hurrah!
 Hip hip Hooray! Hooray! Hey!

 Peasant
 Thus went the bow of the fiddle!

He quickly pressed his way into the crowd,
 Then he bumped into a girl
 With his elbow;
 The brisk young lady turned around
 And said: Well, I find that stupid!

Chorus
Hurrah! Hurrah!
 Hip hip Hooray! Hooray! Hey!

Peasant
Do not be so ill-mannered!

But rapidly round the circle it went,
 They danced to the right, they danced to the left
 And all the skirts were flying.
 They grew red, they grew warm
 And rested, breathless, arm in arm.

Chorus
Hurrah! Hurrah!
 Hip hip Hooray! Hooray! Hey!

Peasant
 And hip to elbow.

And do not act so familiar with me!
 How many a man has betrayed
 And deceived his bride!
 He nevertheless managed to coax her to the side
 And from the linden tree the noise rang out far into the distance!

Chorus
Hurrah! Hurrah!
 Hip hip Hooray! Hooray! Hey!

Peasant
 Cries and the bows of the fiddles!