LDV117

But the piece also contains moments of great tenderness and comfort, with the snowflakes that seem to be falling in the third movement, as everyone huddles by the fire. At the risk of lapsing into cliché, maybe I can suggest that Prokofiev might be recalling his faraway childhood, with his ever-present niania , the Russian nanny. A lost paradise, but a comforting memory, despite the violence all around. David Grimal: There’s tea warming inside the house, a candle is lit . . . Itamar Golan: Beauty, melancholy and a certain tenderness.