Nacken - Water Demon

The evening is festooned with golden clouds the fairies dance in the meadow and the leaf-crowned Nacken plays his fiddle in the silvery brook. Little boy in the brush on the bank resting in the violet vapor hears the noise from the chilly water calls out in the still night. "Poor old fellow, why do you play? will it take the pain away? you bring the woods and the fields to life but you'll never be a child of God. Paradise's moonlit nights eden's flower-crowned plains angels of the light on high-- never to be beheld by your eye." Tears stream down the old man's face down he dives into the rapids the fiddle silences. And the Nacken will never play again in the silvery brook.