Original subtitles

Springtime is here

The birds celebrate her return with festive song,

And murmuring streams are Softly caressed by breezes.

Thunderstorms, the heralds of Spring, roar,

Casting a dark mantle over heaven,

Then they fade away to silence,

And the birds return to their enchanting songs.

On a flowery meadow, with leafy branches

rustling overhead,

the goat-herd sleeps, his faithful dog beside him.

Led by the festive sound of rustic bagpipes,

Nymphs and shepherds dance

Beneath the brilliant canopy of spring.

High summer: beneath the sweltering sun,

A man languishes, along with his flock: the pines burn

We hear the cuckoo's voice;

then the sweet songs of the turtledove and goldfinch.

Soft breezes stir the air, but the threatening

North wind sweeps them suddenly aside.

The shepherd trembles,

fearing the fierce storms and his fate.

The fear of lightning and fierce thunder

robs his tired limbs of rest

and gnats and flies buzz furiously around.

Alas, his fears were justified:

The heavens thunder and roar and great hailstones

beat down the crops.

The villagers celebrate with dancing and songs.

The pleasure of a bountiful harvest.

Full of the wine of Bacchus

They end their revelry in sleep.

Everyone abandons their songs and dances

Tempered by the air and calm

And by the season that invites them more and more

To the great enjoyment of deep sleep.

The hunters set out at dawn

With horns, guns and dogs

The wild beast flees...

...and they follow

Terrified and tired of the great noise

Of rifles and dogs...

...the beast, wounded, tries Weakly to flee,

but, overcome, it dies.

To shiver, cold in the icy snow...

At the harsh breath of a dreadful wind;

To run, stamping one’s feet at each moment,

Teeth chattering in the extreme cold

Let us pass our days at home in peace, contented

While it rains outdoors...

To walk the icy path slowly and cautiously,

For fear of tripping and falling.

To move vigorously, then slip and fall to the ground

Then get up and run hard

Till the ice cracks and breaks

To hear through the iron gates

The desert wind, the North wind and all the winds at war

This is indeed Winter, but of a sort to bring joy.