panter the gangster
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בלדה מדהימה:
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 king of the elves with crown and train!" "My son, the mist is on the plain." ´Sweet lad, o come and join me, do! Such pretty games I will play with you; On the shore gay flowers their color unfold, My mother has many garments of gold.´ "My father, my father, and 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, They´ll 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 comeliness charms me, my boy! And if you´re not willing, my force I´ll employ.´ "Now father, now father, he´s seizing my arm. Elf-king has done me a cruel harm." The father shudders, his ride is wild, In his arms he´s holding the groaning child, Reaches the court with toil and dread. - The child he held in his arms was dead. [ 1782, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe] translation by Edwin Zeydel, 1955
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 king of the elves with crown and train!" "My son, the mist is on the plain." ´Sweet lad, o come and join me, do! Such pretty games I will play with you; On the shore gay flowers their color unfold, My mother has many garments of gold.´ "My father, my father, and 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, They´ll 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 comeliness charms me, my boy! And if you´re not willing, my force I´ll employ.´ "Now father, now father, he´s seizing my arm. Elf-king has done me a cruel harm." The father shudders, his ride is wild, In his arms he´s holding the groaning child, Reaches the court with toil and dread. - The child he held in his arms was dead. [ 1782, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe] translation by Edwin Zeydel, 1955