1703年，他被威尼斯女子孤儿院的“Ospedale della Pieta”聘为小提琴教师。这项工作对维瓦尔第来说是大有裨益，因为孤儿院不仅收藏了大量的乐器，而且孩子们都像维瓦尔第一样热爱音乐。他是公认的最伟大的巴洛克作曲家之一，一生中的影响力遍及整个欧洲。维瓦尔第最主要的成就在于乐器协奏曲（特别是小提琴协奏曲）的创作，以及神圣的圣歌和歌剧，最著名的作品为《四季》小提琴协奏曲。维瓦尔第近500部协奏曲中，超过230部是小提琴独奏。其次他最喜欢巴松管，写有39部协奏曲。其他还有55部的伴奏协奏曲（“无独奏协奏曲”）和近21部室内协奏曲（“无乐队协奏曲”），后人曾经称他为“协奏曲之王”。维瓦尔第将独奏协奏曲变成了巴洛克音乐的最佳表现形式。1940年，维瓦尔第的作品被重新发掘。法国音乐研究员马克·宾舍利和其他收藏家在20世纪30和40年代买了大量的手稿。这些手稿被藏在城堡和寺院等地超过200年。
Springtime is upon us. The birds celebrate her return with festive song,
and murmuring streams are
softly caressed by the breezes.
Thunderstorms, those heralds of Spring, roar,
casting their dark mantle over heaven,
Then they die away to silence,
and the birds take up their charming songs once more.
On the flower-strewn 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 lightly dance
beneath the brilliant canopy of spring.
Under a hard season, fired up by the sun
Languishes man, languishes the flock and burns the pine
We hear the cuckoo’s voice;
then sweet songs of the turtledove and finch are heard.
Soft breezes stir the air, but threatening
the North Wind sweeps them suddenly aside.
The shepherd trembles,
fearing violent storms and his fate.
Adagio e piano – Presto e forte
The fear of lightning and fierce thunder
Robs his tired limbs of rest
As gnats and flies buzz furiously around.
Alas, his fears were justified
The Heavens thunder and roar and with hail
Cut the head off the wheat and damages the grain.
Celebrates the peasant, with songs and dances,
The pleasure of a bountiful harvest.
And fired up by Bacchus’ liquor,
many end their revelry in sleep.
Everyone is made to forget their cares and to sing and dance
By the air which is tempered with pleasure
And (by) the season that invites so many, many
Out of their sweetest slumber to fine enjoyment
The hunters emerge at the new dawn,
And with horns and dogs and guns depart upon their hunting
The beast flees and they follow its trail;
Terrified and tired of the great noise
Of guns and dogs, the beast, wounded, threatens
Languidly to flee, but harried, dies.
To tremble from cold in the icy snow,
In the harsh breath of a horrid wind;
To run, stamping one’s feet every moment,
Our teeth chattering in the extreme cold
Before the fire to pass peaceful,
Contented days while the rain outside pours down.
We tread the icy path slowly and cautiously,
for fear of tripping and falling.
Then turn abruptly, slip, crash on the ground and,
rising, hasten on across the ice lest it cracks up.
We feel the chill north winds course through the home
despite the locked and bolted doors…
this is winter, which nonetheless
brings its own delights.
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