Jenny organized the outing to see San Francisco Symphony perform Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. I loved the piece and also enjoyed reading Vivaldi’s sonnets that accompanied his concertos (Italian with English translation, another translation). You could almost feel the birds, the storms, the hounds, etc in the music. It’s amazing! We hanged out at Jardiniere afterward in our own private room.

The Four Seasons
by Signor D. Antonio Vivaldi
(Translation as printed in the San Francisco Symphony program)

Spring
Spring has come and joyfully
The birds greet it with happy song,
And the brooks, while zephyrs gently blow,
With sweet murmuring flow along:

There come, shrouding the air with a black cloak,
Lightning and thunder chosen to herald it;
Then, when these are silent, the little birds
Return to their melodious incantations:

And now, in the gaily flowered meadow,
To the soft murmuring of boughs and grasses,
The goatherd sleeps with his faithful dog at his side.

To the festive sound of a pastoral pipe,
Nymphs and shepherd dance under their beloved sky
At the glittering appearance of spring.

Summer
In the harsh season scorched by the sun,
Languish man and flock, and the pine is set afire;
The cuckoo begins to call, and soon after,
The turtle-dove and the goldfinch are heard singing.

Zephyr sweetly blows, but Boreas suddenly
Enters into a contest with its neighbor;
And the little shepherd weeps for he fears
The awesome threatening storm, and his fate;

To his tired limbs rest is denied
By the fear of lightning, awesome thunder
And the furious swarm of flies and hornets!

Alas, his fears are justified.
The sky is filled with thunder and lightning.
And hail cuts down the proud grain.

Autumn
The peasant celebrates with dances and songs
The pleasure of the happy harvest;
And inflamed by the wine of Bacchus, many
End with sleep their revelry.

The mild pleasant air makes all abandon dance and song:
This is the season which invites all mankind
To the sweet delights of peaceful sleep.

The hunters, at the break of dawn,
With horns, guns, and hounds set forth.
The animal flees, and they follow its tracks:

Already frightended and tired by the great noise
Of guns and hounds, the wounded animal attempts
Vainly to flee, but is overcome and dies.

Winter
Trembling with cold amidst icy snows
While a frightful wind harshly blows,
Running and stamping one’s feet every minute:
And from the unbearable cold feeling one’s teeth chatter;

Spending quiet contended days by the hearth
While the rain outside drenches people by the hundreds;
Walking on ice, and moving about cautiously
With slow stpes for fear of falling;

Rushing, slipping, falling down,
Again walking on ice and running fast
Until the ice cracks and splits;

Hearing burst forth from the bolted doors
Sirocoo, Boreas, and all the winds at war.
This is winter, but O what joy it brings!