Now that I can comment again. I already told Ashe in a note about my story with the Erl-king. But maybe someone else wants to read it. (Yeah. Right. Delusions of importance. )
OK. So I worked as a librarian/IT in a Hungarian community center for a time. That place held an annual poetry recitation competition (those are a thing in Hungary) they were angsty and boring and generally something I could really live without, but my ex-boss downright loved them. Now one participant in the first I had the misfortune to witness chose this poem... oh yeah... the competition was held for school children so the boy reciting it was 10 or so years old. My brain went for the mundane interpretation as a reflex... at that day anything else would be way too much.