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I am a German guy. I like many normal guy things like cars, hunting, motorcycles, porn, watching tv, soda, pizza, and hot girls.
I work as a promotions cordinator in a large company in West Des Moines Iowa.
I dont have any kids but I love being an uncle!
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.
Who rides so late through the night and wind?
It's the father with his child
He has the boy safe in his arm
He holds him secure, he holds him warm.
“My son, what makes you hide your face in fear?”
Father, don't you see the Erlking?
– The Erlking with crown and flowing robe?
“My son, it's a wisp of fog.”
“You dear child, come along with me!
Such lovely games I'll play with you;
Many colorful flowers are at the shore,
My mother has many a golden garment.”
My father, my father, and do you not hear
What the Erlking promises me so softly?
“Be quiet, stay quiet, my child
In the dry leaves the wind is rustling.”
“Won't you come along with me, my fine boy?
My daughters shall attend to you so nicely
My daughters do their nightly dance
And they'll rock you and dance you and sing you to sleep.”
My father, my father, and do you not see over there
Erlking's daughters in that dark place?
“My son, my son, I see it most definitely:
It's the willow trees looking so grey.”
“I love you; I'm charmed by your beautiful form
And if you're not willing, then I'll use force.”
My father, my father, now he's grabbing hold of me!
Erlking has done me harm!
The father shudders, he rides swiftly
He holds in (his) arms the moaning child.
He reaches the farmhouse with effort and urgency
In his arms the child was dead
