The Four Seasons

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The Four Seasons

• Antonio Vivaldi

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Spring
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Spring has Come
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and is greetedJoyfully by the birds with merry
song
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The little brooks flow to the whisperingof the
zephyr winds with gentle murmuring
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MeanwhileThe heavens decked with robes of
black,Thunder and lightning appear as augeries
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Then, when all is still again,The little birds
return to their enchanting song.
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The Shepherd sleeps, (solo violin)on the
blossoming, Gentle Meadow, beneath the
rustlingOf the twigs and leaves (violins), the
faithful dog (violas) at his side.
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To the festive sound of rustic bagpipesNymphs
and shepherds dance beneath heavens canopy,At
the brilliant appearance of spring.
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Summer
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In the merciless season of the burning sunBoth
man and animal languish,
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while the pine tree burns.
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The cuckoo offers his voice,
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and in quick accord
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Soon sing the dove and goldfinch as well.
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A gentle breeze blows,
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But suddenly is challengedBy the north wind
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The shepherd boy weeps, fearful ofThe
threatening storm and of his fate.
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His tired limbs deprived of rest
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He fears the flashes of lightning and firey
thunderAs well as the furious swars of gnats
and wasps (violins)
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Ah, all too true are his fears,
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The sky thunders and flashes, and
hailstonesBreak the stalks of the ears of corn.
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Autumn
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The peasants express with dance and songTheir
joy for the happy harvest
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They are from Bacchus so inebriated
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That their merriment is followed by sleep.
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Thus in turn each ceases his singing and
dancingThe air is mild and pleasant,And the
season induces manyTo enjoy sweet slumber.
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At daybreak the hunters leave for the chase,With
horns, guns, and dogs,
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The wild beast takes flight,and they follow its
trail.
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It is already terrified and exhausted by the
great noiseOf the guns and the dogs,
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and wounded it triesTo flee from danger,
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but exhausted, dies.
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Winter
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Freezing to death, shivering in the glittering
snow.
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In the howling wind of the fierce storm,
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We hurry on, stamping our feet
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Our teeth chattering in the extreme cold.
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By the fireside, we spend a peaceful dayWhile
outside, rain (violins) pours on everyone in
sight.
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Walking on the ice,
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but with slow stepsFearing to fall, we walk with
caution
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Boldly stepping out,
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Slipping and falling to the ground
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On the ice we get up again,running with vigorous
steps,
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Until finally the ice breaks, and we fall.
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One hears emerging from behind closed doors
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The Sirocco, the Borea, and all the other winds
fighting each other
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This is winter, but even so, what joy it brings!