Vivaldi's most famous work is the four seasons. Nowdays since the Vivaldi revival in the middle of the century, the four seasons have become one of the most popular and recorded classical music pieces. The four seasons are four concertos for solo violin, first violins, second violins, violas, cellos [basses] and continuo (usually played by harpsicord). These concertos are the first four of Vivaldi's opus 8, the trial between harmony and invention. The title is suggestive of an artistic statement, the balance between musical logic and inventive creativity. The four seasons are highly programatic, vivaldi published poems with the works and even had each line of the poems put where the programatic effect is occurring.

        The sonnets:

        Spring:

              Spring has come, and the brids greet it festivelt with a cheerfull song; And with the breath of the gentle breezes springs trickle with a pleasant murmur. Lightening and thunder, elected to announce it, come and cover the air with a black cloak. Once they are quiet, the birds return to their enchanting song. Then on the
pleasant, flowering meadow a goatherd with his faithful dog at his side, sleeps to the sweet murmur of the foiliage and plants. To the  sound of a rustic bagpipe nymphs and shepherds dance under the beloved canopy at the brilliant appearence of spring.

        Summer:

              Under the harsh season ignited by the sun, man and flock languish, and the pines burn; The cuckoo offers his voice and, soon heard, the young turtledove and goldfinch sing. Zepher (west wind) blows gently, but suddenly boreas (north wind) offers opposition to his neighbor; and the shepherd boy weeps, because he fears a severe storm in the offing - and his destiny. The repose of his tired limbs is disturbed by the fear of lightning and fiery thunder, and by a furious swarm of flies and wasps. Unfortunately, his fears are justified. The sky thunders and fuminates, and hail flattens the corn and majestic grains.

        Autumn:

              The peasant celebrates the blissful pleasure of a happy harvest with dances and songs, and glowing with the liquor of Bacchus, many complete their enjoyment with sleep. The air tempered by pleasure, makes everyone give up dances and songs. It is this season that invites so many to the great enjoyment of a sweet sleep. At dawn the hunters are off to the hunt with horns, rifles, and dogs. The wild beast flees, and they follow its trail. Frightened already, and fatigued by the noise of rifles and dogs, wounded, it threatens languidly to flee, but, overcome, it dies.

        Winter:

              To tremble from the cold in the icy snow, in the harsh breath of a horrid wind; to run, stamping our feet every moment, our teeth chattering in the extreme cold. Before the fire to pass peaceful contented days while the rain outside pours down. To walk on the ice and, at a slow pace for fear of falling, move carefully. To make a bold turn, to slip, to fall down. To go on the ice once more and run hard until the ice breaks up. To hear the sirocco, (warm south wind) boreas, and all the winds at war leave their iron gates: this is winter, but, even so, what joy it brings!