Skip to content

Program Notes

The Seasons

Dumka

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

(1840 – 1893)

The Seasons, Op. 37bis

The Seasons, Op. 37bis, is a cycle of twelve short character pieces for piano, each representing a month of the year. Written in 1875–76, the set was commissioned by the editor of Nouvellist, a St. Petersburg monthly magazine, which published one piece in each issue throughout the year. The assignment was straightforward: Tchaikovsky was paid a fixed fee and asked to supply a mini-piece for every month, each paired with an epigraph chosen by the magazine’s staff—usually a line of poetry reflecting the seasonal mood.

Although the project began as a practical commission, Tchaikovsky infused these pieces with exceptional lyricism, atmosphere, and emotional nuance. Each miniature captures a distinctly Russian sense of landscape and time of year: the warmth of domestic life in winter, the excitement of spring holidays, the restlessness of summer, and the quiet melancholy of autumn.

The cycle does not follow a strict narrative but instead offers a series of poetic snapshots—intimate musical scenes rooted in everyday Russian life. Despite their modest scale, several of the pieces have become some of Tchaikovsky’s most beloved piano works, particularly May (Starlit Nights), June (Barcarolle), and November (Troika).

When performed as a complete cycle, The Seasons form a vivid musical calendar, revealing Tchaikovsky’s gift for melody, color, and atmosphere in distilled, jewel-like form.

 

January — At the Fireside

Epigraph: Alexander Pushkin

«И мирной неги уголок
Ночь сумраком одела,
В камине гаснет огонёк,
И свечка нагорела».

“A peaceful, blissful corner
Is wrapped in the dusk of night.
The fire in the hearth grows faint,
And the candle has burned low.”

The opening piece of the cycle, January – At the Fireside, sets a tone of warmth and intimacy. Inspired by Pushkin’s quiet, contemplative stanza, Tchaikovsky paints a scene of a winter night spent indoors, far from the harsh Russian cold. The music unfolds like a gentle conversation: expressive, tender, and unhurried.

A lyrical main theme, built from simple melodic contours, evokes the glow of a fading fire and the soft hush of a quiet evening. The harmonies lean toward nostalgic, with subtle shifts that suggest flickering light and passing thoughts. In the middle section, Tchaikovsky introduces a slightly more animated idea, hinting at memories or private reflections stirred by the crackling hearth, before returning to the calm and comfort of the opening mood.

February— Carnival

Epigraph: Pyotr Vyazemsky

«Скоро масленицы бойкой
Закипит широкий пир».

“Soon the lively Maslenitsa
Will burst into a wide, exuberant feast.”

If January offers the warmth of a quiet hearth, February bursts into the brightness and energy of Maslenitsa—the joyful week-long festival that marks the end of winter in Russian tradition. Known for its outdoor games, music, sleigh rides, and abundant food, Maslenitsa embodies exuberance and anticipation, and Tchaikovsky captures this spirit with brilliant clarity.

The piece opens with a sparkling, festive theme driven by quick rhythms and lively articulation. Its buoyant character immediately evokes the bustle of a winter fair: spinning crowds, laughter, and the sound of bells cutting through the frosty air. The music’s perpetual motion reflects the atmosphere of celebration that Vyazemsky’s epigraph suggests—a feast ready to “boil over” with excitement.

A contrasting middle section briefly introduces a smoother, more lyrical idea, as if we catch a glimpse of a quieter moment amid the festivities. But the calm is short-lived; the opening energy soon returns, brighter and more vibrant, propelling the piece to a jubilant close.

Compact and virtuosic, February – Carnival is Tchaikovsky’s musical tribute to one of Russia’s most colorful winter traditions—full of light, movement, and communal joy.

March – Song of the Lark

Epigraph: Apollon Maykov

«Поле зыблется цветами,
В небе льются света волны,
Вешних жаворонков пенья
Голубые бездны полны».

“The field ripples with flowers,
Waves of sunlight pour through the sky,
And the spring larks’ singing
Fills the blue depths above.”

In March – Song of the Lark, Tchaikovsky turns from the winter festivities of February to the first true signs of spring. Maykov’s epigraph speaks of light, open skies, and the lark’s soaring song—symbols of renewal deeply rooted in Russian poetic tradition. Tchaikovsky responds with a piece that is simple, transparent, and quietly radiant.

The opening melody has the character of a folk song: unhurried, gentle, and carried upward like a bird’s call. Its phrases seem to rise toward the “blue depths” described in the poem, supported by a steady accompaniment that suggests the quiet awakening of nature. There is no dramatic outburst here; instead, Tchaikovsky creates a sense of spaciousness and calm, mirroring the vast spring fields and the soft breeze hinted at in the verse.

A slightly more animated middle section introduces brighter harmonies and a livelier motion, as if the lark circles the sky in widening arcs. But the mood remains tender and introspective. The piece ends as it began—peacefully, with a return to the simple, singing line that evokes the first hopeful warmth of early spring.

Delicate and understated, March captures the essence of Tchaikovsky’s lyrical gift: the ability to paint an entire landscape with just a few notes.

April – Snowdrop

Epigraph: Apollon Maykov

«Голубенький, чистый подснежник – цветок,
А подле сквозистый последний снежок.
Последние слёзы о горе былом
И первые грёзы о счастье ином».

“A little blue, pure snowdrop—this flower,
Beside it the shimmering last snow.
The final tears for sorrow long past,
And the first dreams of happiness to come.”

In April – Snowdrop, Tchaikovsky captures one of the most delicate images of early spring: the first small flower pushing through the thinning snow. Maykov’s poem blends memory and hope—the fading sadness of winter and the quiet promise of new life. The music reflects this duality with effortless grace.

The main theme is tender and lightly ornamented, unfolding like the opening of a fragile blossom. Its elegant, bell-like phrasing suggests both innocence and resilience. The accompaniment, gentle and restrained, evokes the soft melt of snow and the stillness of cool spring air.

A more flowing middle section introduces warmth and forward motion, as if sunlight briefly breaks through the clouds. Yet the overall mood remains intimate. Tchaikovsky avoids grand gestures, instead focusing on subtle color and clarity to portray the snowdrop’s fragile beauty.

April – Snowdrop is one of the most poetic miniatures in the cycle—a small, luminous portrait of spring’s first, hesitant bloom.

May – White Nights

Epigraph: Afanasy Fet

«Какая ночь! На всём какая нега!
Благодарю, родной полночный край!
Из царства льдов, из царства вьюг и снега,
Как свеж и чист твой вылетает Май!»

“What a night! What bliss in everything!
I thank you, my native midnight land!
From the realm of ice, of storms and snow,
How fresh and pure your May ascends!”

In May – White Nights, Tchaikovsky reflects a specifically northern phenomenon: the “white nights,” when, around late spring and early summer, night never becomes fully dark. In cities such as St Petersburg, the sun barely dips below the horizon, and the world is suspended in a pale, luminous twilight. Fet’s poem thanks this “midnight land” for its soft light and the sense of quiet bliss it brings, and Tchaikovsky turns that image into music.

The piece unfolds with a calm, spacious lyricism that reflects the soft glow and stillness of the northern white nights. The rocking motion of the accompaniment suggests a calm boat ride or a slow evening walk by the water, while the main melody unfolds in long, songlike phrases that seem to float over a softly glowing background. Rather than dramatic contrasts, Tchaikovsky favors smooth, flowing lines and subtle dynamic shadings, mirroring the way light slowly shifts during a white night without ever fully disappearing.

In the central section, the harmony grows warmer and more expansive. The texture thickens slightly, as if the emotional temperature rises: the quiet happiness of the opening deepens into a more intense, but still intimate, lyricism. When the initial theme returns, it feels both familiar and transformed, like the same landscape seen a little later in the night.

Everything in May – White Nights is built around the idea of suspended time, where darkness never fully arrives and the world seems held in a gentle, continuous light.

June – Barcarolle

Epigraph: Alexei Pleshcheev

«Выйдем на берег, там волны
Ноги нам будут лобзать,
Звёзды с таинственной грустью
Будут над нами сиять».

“Let us go down to the shore, where the waves
Will kiss our feet,
And the stars, with mysterious sadness,
Will shine above us.”

Tchaikovsky’s June – Barcarolle is one of the most iconic pieces in The Seasons, beloved for its expansive melody and deep emotional resonance. Pleshcheev’s epigraph sets the tone: a quiet summer evening by the water, where gentle waves and distant stars create an atmosphere of intimacy and wistfulness. Tchaikovsky responds with music that feels both tender and deeply nostalgic.

The opening theme, with its long, arching lines, resembles a song without words—simple yet profoundly expressive. Its rhythmic sway evokes the gentle rocking of a boat or the slow pulse of water against the shore. There is an unmistakable sense of longing in the melody, not dramatic but reflective, as if shaped by memories stirred by the summer night.

The middle section introduces a broader, more impassioned idea, building toward a climax that momentarily lifts the music from quiet contemplation into heartfelt intensity. Yet even at its most expressive, the writing remains lyrical, shaped by Tchaikovsky’s gift for vocal, singing lines.

When the opening theme returns, it feels softened and illuminated, like a familiar shoreline seen under starlight. The piece fades away with the same gentle motion with which it began.

June – Barcarolle is a miniature masterpiece—an evocative summer nocturne in which solitude, nature, and emotion flow seamlessly into one another.

July – Song of the Reaper

Epigraph: Alexei Koltsov

«Раззудись, плечо,
Размахнись, рука!
Ты пахни в лицо,
Ветер с полудня!»

“Swing wide, O shoulder,
And sweep forth, O arm!
Blow into my face,
Wind from the noonday fields!”

After the calm water and soft starlight of June, Tchaikovsky turns abruptly to the heat and labor of high summer. July – Song of the Reaper is full of vigor and muscular energy, echoing Koltsov’s poem about the rhythmic work of mowing fields under the blazing midday sun.

The piece begins with a bold, driving motif that immediately suggests the swinging arc of a scythe. Its firm accents and steady pulse convey the physicality of fieldwork—repetitive, tireless, almost percussive. Tchaikovsky uses a strong, folk-like rhythmic character, giving the music the earthiness and directness of a work song.

A contrasting passage introduces a brief lyrical idea, offering a momentary sense of relief or daydreaming amid the labor. But the respite is short: the forceful opening material quickly returns, pushing the piece toward a decisive and energetic close.

Compact and elemental, July captures a vivid slice of rural life—sun, sweat, movement, and the unrelenting rhythm of summer work. Its straightforward strength provides a striking midpoint in the cycle, balancing the gentler spring and autumn pieces with pure, physical momentum.

August – Harvest

Epigraph: Alexei Koltsov

«Люди семьями принялися жать,
Косить под корень рожь высокую!
В копны частые снопы сложены,
От возов всю ночь скрипит музыка».

“Families set out together to reap,
Cutting the tall rye down to the root.
Sheaves are stacked in thick, close piles,
And all night long the wagons creak their music.”

August – Harvest continues the cycle’s summertime focus on rural life, but here Tchaikovsky expands the scale. Whereas July depicted a single reaper’s labor, August unfolds as a broader tableau: families working together in the fields, carts rolling through the night, and the vast, rhythmic movement of a full harvest season. Koltsov’s epigraph emphasizes both the communal spirit and the physical intensity of this work, and Tchaikovsky mirrors that blend of effort and momentum in music that feels grounded, sweeping, and energetic.

The opening theme is sturdy and confident, shaped by strong chordal writing and a steady underlying pulse. It evokes the collective rhythm of many hands working side by side, the scythes cutting in coordinated arcs, and the field slowly yielding its crop. Harmonic turns add a sense of expansiveness, as if the musical line stretches across wide rural distances.

A contrasting middle section brings a more lyrical warmth, suggesting moments of rest, conversation, or the soft glow of late-summer light over the landscape. Yet even here, the music retains an undercurrent of motion—an awareness that the work continues, that the day is long, and that the wagons must be loaded before nightfall.

The return of the opening material gathers everything into a final surge of strength, ending the piece with the same purposeful vigor that drives the harvest itself.

August – Harvest is a vivid musical fresco of rural Russia at the height of summer: communal, hardworking, and filled with the timeless rhythm of the land.

September – The Hunt

Epigraph: Alexander Pushkin, Graf Nulin

«Пора, пора! Рога трубят;
Псари в охотничьих уборах
Чем свет уж на конях сидят;
Борзые прыгают на сворах».

“It’s time, it’s time! The horns are sounding;
The huntsmen, dressed in their finery,
At daybreak are already mounted,
And the hounds leap, straining at their leashes.”

With September – The Hunt, Tchaikovsky shifts the seasonal atmosphere from summer’s fields to autumn’s brisk, open air. Pushkin’s vivid epigraph summons the traditional Russian hunt: horns, horses, hounds, and the exhilaration of early morning departure. Tchaikovsky captures this excitement through spirited rhythms, bright harmonies, and music that seems to gallop forward from the first measure.

The opening theme is bold and fanfare-like, unmistakably evoking the sound of hunting horns. Its rhythmic drive immediately creates the sensation of motion—riders gathering speed, hooves striking the ground, and dogs pulling eagerly at their reins. The writing is crisp and energetic, giving the entire piece a sense of purposeful forward sweep.

A contrasting middle section introduces a more lyrical idea, offering a brief glimpse of the surrounding autumn landscape—perhaps a moment where the riders pause to take in the clear air and the rustling trees. But the return of the main material restores the urgency and thrill of the chase, pushing the music toward an exhilarating close.

With its clear imagery and brilliant momentum, September – The Hunt stands as one of the most vividly pictorial pieces in the cycle—a celebration of movement, tradition, and the invigorating spirit of early autumn.

October – Autumn Song

Epigraph: Alexei Tolstoy

«Осень, обсыпается весь наш бедный сад,
Листья пожелтелые по ветру летят».

“Autumn—our poor garden sheds all its leaves,
The yellowed ones fly away on the wind.”

October – Autumn Song is one of the emotional centers of The Seasons, a quietly melancholic meditation shaped by the gentle decline of nature. Tolstoy’s epigraph depicts a garden losing its leaves—a simple image that carries a deeper sense of passing time, memory, and the soft sadness that accompanies the arrival of autumn..

The opening melody is deeply lyrical, vocal in character, unfolding with a sense of wistfulness. Its long, sighing phrases suggest leaves drifting through the air or the slow fading of summer’s warmth. Harmonically, the music shifts with subtle poignancy, reflecting the instability and delicate beauty of the season.

The middle section introduces a slightly brighter, more hopeful idea, as if the sun briefly breaks through the clouds or a cherished memory surfaces. Yet even here, the warmth is fleeting. The primary theme returns with greater introspection, its quiet sadness deepened rather than resolved.

Tchaikovsky does not dramatize autumn; instead, he captures its quiet, personal side—the reflective mood that settles in as the days grow shorter and the world prepares for winter. The piece ends gently, dissolving like the final leaves carried away by the wind.

October – Autumn Song is among the most moving miniatures in the cycle: tender, sincere, and filled with the unmistakable lyricism that defines Tchaikovsky at his most intimate.

November – Troika

Epigraph: Nikolai Nekrasov

«Не гляди же с тоской на дорогу
И за тройкой вослед не спеши,
И тоскливую в сердце тревогу
Поскорей навсегда заглуши!»

“Do not look down the road with sorrow,
Do not hurry after the troika;
And the anxious sadness in your heart—
Hurry now to silence it forever!”

Nekrasov’s epigraph sets the tone for November – Troika: a fast three-horse sleigh rushing through early winter, carrying with it both excitement and a quiet ache of parting. Tchaikovsky begins with a bright, driving rhythm that instantly evokes the sharp bells, hoofbeats, and icy momentum of the troika in motion.

Amid this lively movement, the melody carries a trace of melancholy—clear phrases that rise like a farewell and fall back into the relentless forward sweep. A brief middle section softens the scene: the sleigh seems to drift into the distance, and a more reflective mood surfaces before the energy returns.

The reprise feels more urgent, as if the horses accelerate into the cold November air. The piece ends with the same brisk motion, leaving behind a vivid sense of wintry space, speed, and the emotional tension between departure and memory.

December – Christmas (Yuletide)

Epigraph: Vasily Zhukovsky

«Раз в крещенский вечерок
Девушки гадали:
За ворота башмачок,
Сняв с ноги, бросали…»

“Once on an Epiphany evening
Young girls told fortunes:
Over the gate they tossed
A little shoe, taken from the foot…”

Tchaikovskys December – Christmas (Yuletide) closes The Seasons with warmth, celebration, and a touch of folk magic. Zhukovsky’s epigraph refers to traditional Epiphany fortune-telling rituals—customs filled with playful mystery, anticipation, and youthful excitement. Against this backdrop, Tchaikovsky creates a piece that feels festive, dancing, and richly colored.

The main theme is bright and graceful, shaped like a holiday dance. Its lilting rhythm and sparkling accompaniment evoke the lively gatherings typical of Russian svyatki—a festive period between Christmas and Epiphany marked by games, songs, and winter merriment. The melody has a charming, almost storytelling quality, as if echoing laughter and movement inside a warmly lit home.

A contrasting middle section brings a more lyrical mood, suggesting a moment of reflection amid the celebration. This passage captures the gentle side of the season: candlelight, winter night air, and the quiet hope that often accompanies year’s end.

When the original dance returns, the music feels even more joyful and illuminated. The final measures gather all the warmth and brightness of the piece into a spirited conclusion, closing the entire cycle with an atmosphere of festivity and goodwill.

December – Christmas serves as an ideal finale: cheerful, elegant, and touched by the enchantment of Russian winter traditions. It brings Tchaikovsky’s musical calendar to a close with a sense of celebration and poetic charm.

Dumka in C minor, Op. 59

“Russian Rustic Scene” (Scène rustique russe)

Tchaikovsky’s Dumka in C minor, Op. 59, subtitled Russian Rustic Scene,” is one of his most distinctive single-movement works for piano. Composed in 1886, it belongs to a genre rooted in Slavic musical tradition. The term dumka originally referred to a reflective, often melancholic folk meditation—typically contrasted with lively, dance-like sections. Tchaikovsky adopts this structure with striking clarity, shaping the piece around a powerful emotional contrast.

The opening section is quiet, introspective, and songlike. A plaintive melody unfolds with the natural inflection of a folk lament, supported by gentle, steady accompaniment. The harmonies and modal turns evoke a landscape of memory and inward reflection—an atmosphere where the listener is drawn into the stillness of the Russian countryside.

This introspection gradually gives way to transformation. A transitional passage—more animated and harmonically adventurous—ushers in the central episode, which bursts forth with vigor. Here the music becomes bright, rhythmic, and full of rustic character, as if depicting a lively village gathering. The dance-like motifs, syncopations, and energetic octave writing create a vivid sense of communal festivity and unrestrained movement.

After this surge of energy, the return of the opening material brings a shift in tone. The once-simple lament now feels more tender and deeply colored, as though viewed through memory after an emotional journey. The piece closes softly, with a sense of inwardness and poetic resignation.

In a compact single movement, Dumka presents a rich emotional narrative: sorrow and celebration, reflection and release. It stands as one of Tchaikovsky’s most expressive character pieces, capturing the spirit of Russian folk tradition through refined pianistic writing.