Out of silence, a harp stroke and strings blooming beneath it — and this is the whole ensemble: strings and harp, nothing else, for the entire movement.

The melody arrives in the violins — one long, unhurried line of song over the steady harp.

The line climbs again, and this time the lower strings rise to fill the space behind it.

Under the melody, the harp turns active — plucked notes now moving in their own quiet rhythm.

This is how the piece breathes: a phrase rises, holds its top briefly, then eases back — and another rise follows.

Now the whole section rises together — the sound thickens into a full band of strings, the upper voices pressing forward.

Past the top of that wave, everything relaxes — the supporting strings fall away until one voice is left nearly alone.

Quietly, the support starts filling in behind the lead line again.

A second melody takes the lead — the motion turns more flowing, with the harp keeping a steadier step underneath.

The climb steepens: the full section leans its weight in, and the sound keeps growing heavier.

The crest passes, and the pressure lets go — the sound comes down from its height and spreads wide again.

Back to the opening picture: harp glowing beneath, a single singing line above quiet strings.

The support swells softly under the line — warming it without pushing.

The section swells again, and this time it doesn't recede — the fullness holds, and keeps gathering.

The fullness releases — the pacing leans back, and quiet chords unfold with more space around them.

Out of the quiet, the swells come closer together: rise, ease back, rise again, each one carrying more weight.

And this one holds — the strings keep their full sound suspended up here while the line keeps singing across it.

Then the letting-go: long tones, farther and farther apart, until the sound empties into silence.