The peasants celebrate with dance and song,

The joy of a rich harvest.

And, full of Bacchus's liquor,

They finish their celebration with sleep.

Each peasant ceases his dance and song.

The mild air gives pleasure,

And the season invites many

To enjoy a sweet slumber.

The hunters, at the break of dawn, go to the hunt.

With horns, guns, and dogs they are off,

The beast flees, and they follow its trail.

Already fearful and exhausted by the great noise,

Of guns and dogs, and wounded,

The exhausted beast tries to flee, but dies.

-L'Autunno, Antonio Vivaldi