The Four Seasons (Vivaldi)

The Four Seasons (Le quattro stagioni in the original Italian) is the name given to the four violin concertos by Antonio Vivaldi, Opus 8, No. 1-4. Penned in 1723, they remain among the most popular concertos in all music.

Related Topics:
Italian - Violin - Concerto - Antonio Vivaldi - Opus - 1723 - Music

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Each of The Four Seasons concertos is in three movements with a slow movement between two faster ones. Each concerto is named after a season: "Spring", "Summer", "Autumn", and "Winter". The texture of each movement is varied, resembling its respective season. For example, "Winter" is dark and sombre, whereas "Summer" invokes a thunderstorm in its final movement.

Related Topics:
Season - Texture

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Vivaldi wrote four sonnets, to be read with the concerti:

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Italian English

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Spring

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Giunt' è la Primavera e festosetti

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La Salutan gl' Augei con lieto canto,

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E i fonti allo Spirar de' Zeffiretti

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Con dolce mormorio Scorrono intanto:

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Vengon' coprendo l' aer di nero amanto

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E Lampi, e tuoni ad annuntiarla eletti

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Indi tacendo questi, gl' Augelletti;

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Tornan' di nuovo al lor canoro incanto:

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E quindi sul fiorito ameno prato

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Al caro mormorio di fronde e piante

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Dorme 'l Caprar col fido can' à lato.

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Di pastoral Zampogna al suon festante

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Danzan Ninfe e Pastor nel tetto amato

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Di primavera all' apparir brillante.

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Springtime is upon us.

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The birds celebrate her return with festive song,

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and murmuring streams are softly caressed by the breezes.

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Thunderstorms, those heralds of Spring, roar, casting their dark mantle over heaven,

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Then they die away to silence, and the birds take up their charming songs once more.

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On the flower-strewn meadow, with leafy branches rustling overhead, the goat-herd sleeps, his faithful dog beside him.

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Led by the festive sound of rustic bagpipes, nymphs and shepherds lightly dance beneath the brilliant canopy of spring.

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Summer

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Sotto dura Staggion dal Sole accesa

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Langue l' huom, langue 'l gregge, ed arde il Pino;

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Scioglie il Cucco la Voce, e tosto intesa

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Canta la Tortorella e 'l gardelino.

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Zeffiro dolce Spira, mà contesa

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Muove Borea improviso al Suo vicino;

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E piange il Pastorel, perche sospesa

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Teme fiera borasca, e 'l suo destino;

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Toglie alle membra lasse il Suo riposo

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Il timore de' Lampi, e tuoni fieri

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E de mosche, e mossoni il Stuol furioso!

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Ah che pur troppo i Suo timor Son veri

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Tuona e fulmina il Ciel e grandioso

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Tronca il capo alle Spiche e a' grani alteri.

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Beneath the blazing sun's relentless heat

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men and flocks are sweltering,

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pines are scorched.

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We hear the cuckoo's voice; then sweet songs of the turtle dove and finch are heard.

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Soft breezes stir the air... but threatening north wind sweeps them suddenly aside.

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The shepherd trembles, fearful of violent storm and what may lie ahead.

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His limbs are now awakened from their repose by fear of lightning's flash and thunder's roar, as gnats and flies buzz furiously around.

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Alas, his worst fears were justified, as the heavens roar and great hailstones beat down upon the proudly standing corn.

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Autumn

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Celebra il Vilanel con balli e Canti

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Del felice raccolto il bel piacere

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E del liquor de Bacco accesi tanti

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Finiscono col Sonno il lor godere

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Fà ch' ogn' uno tralasci e balli e canti

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L' aria che temperata dà piacere,

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E la Staggion ch' invita tanti e tanti

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D' un dolcissimo Sonno al bel godere.

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I cacciator alla nov' alba à caccia

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Con corni, Schioppi, e canni escono fuore

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Fugge la belua, e Seguono la traccia;

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Già Sbigottita, e lassa al gran rumore

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De' Schioppi e canni, ferita minaccia

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Languida di fuggir, mà oppressa muore.

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The peasant celebrates with song and dance the harvest safely gathered in.

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The cup of Bacchus flows freely, and many find their relief in deep slumber.

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The singing and the dancing die away

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as cooling breezes fan the pleasant air,

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inviting all to sleep

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without a care.

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The hunters emerge at dawn,

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ready for the chase,

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with horns and dogs and cries.

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Their quarry flees while they give chase.

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Terrified and wounded, the prey struggles on,

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but, harried, dies.

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Winter

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Aggiacciato tremar trà neri algenti

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Al Severo Spirar d' orrido Vento,

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Correr battendo i piedi ogni momento;

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E pel Soverchio gel batter i denti;

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Passar al foco i di quieti e contenti

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Mentre la pioggia fuor bagna ben cento

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Caminar Sopra 'l giaccio, e à passo lento

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Per timor di cader gersene intenti;

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Gir forte Sdruzziolar, cader à terra

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Di nuove ir Sopra 'l giaccio e correr forte

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Sin ch' il giaccio si rompe, e si disserra;

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Sentir uscir dalle ferrate porte

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Sirocco Borea, e tutti i Venti in guerra

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Quest' é 'l verno, mà tal, che gioja apporte.

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Shivering, frozen mid the frosty snow in biting, stinging winds;

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running to and fro to stamp one's icy feet, teeth chattering in the bitter chill.

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To rest contentedly beside the hearth, while those outside are drenched by pouring rain.

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We tread the icy path slowly and cautiously, for fear of tripping and falling.

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Then turn abruptly, slip, crash on the ground and, rising, hasten on across the ice lest it cracks up.

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We feel the chill north winds course through the home despite the locked and bolted doors...

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this is winter, which nonetheless brings its own delights.

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