Der Erlkönig

$10.00

by Franz Schubert

arranged for 1 piano, 4 hands by Greg Anderson

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by Franz Schubert

arranged for 1 piano, 4 hands by Greg Anderson

advanced

by Franz Schubert

arranged for 1 piano, 4 hands by Greg Anderson

advanced

"Der Erlkönig"

by Franz Schubert
arrangement for piano, four-hands by Anderson & Roe

“Who rides so late through night and wind?

— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

So begins one of the most terrifying portraits of pursuit and death. As you listen to this opera-like song, close your eyes and feel the music course through your body. Sense the impending doom as Death's messenger thrusts you headlong into a relentlessly visceral ride. 

— Greg Anderson & Elizabeth Joy Roe

Der Erlkönig

Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.

Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?"
"Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?
Den Erlenkönig mit Kron und Schweif?"
"Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif." 

"Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir!
Gar schöne Spiele spiel ich mit dir;
Manch bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,
Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand."

"Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,
Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht?" 
"Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind;
In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind." 

"Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn?
Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön;
Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn,
Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein."

"Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht
dort Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort?"
"Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh es genau:
Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau."

"Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt;
Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt."
"Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an!
Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan!"

Dem Vater grausets, er reitet geschwind,
Er hält in Armen das ächzende Kind,
Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not;
In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

THE ELF-KING

Who's riding so late where winds blow wild?
It is the father grasping his child;
He holds the boy embraced in his arm,
He clasps him snugly, he keeps him warm.

"My son, why cover your face in such fear?"
"You see the Elf-king, father? He's near!
The Elf-king with crown and train!"
"My son, it's merely the mist on the plain."

"Sweet child, o come and join me, do!
Such pretty games I will play with you;
On the shore lovely flowers their color unfold,
My mother has many garments of gold."

"My father, my father, can you not hear
The promise the elf-king breathes in my ear?"
"Be calm, stay calm, my child, lie low:
In withered leaves the night-winds blow."

"Will you, sweet lad, come along with me?
My daughters shall care for you tenderly;
In the night my daughters their revelry keep,
and rock you and dance you and sing you to sleep."

"My father, my father, o can you not trace
The elf-king's daughters in that gloomy place?"
"My son, my son, I see it clear
How grey the ancient willows appear."

"I love you, your shape gives me a thrill!
If you won't come, I'll take you against your will."
"My father, my father, he's seizing my arm!
The Elf-king has done me a cruel harm!"

The father shudders, his ride is wild,
In his arms he holds the groaning child,
He reaches the court with toil and dread.
The child he holds in his arms is dead.


translation by Edwin Zeydel & Ariana Lenarsky

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