A significant concerto work for piano and orchestra composed in 1957, which received the Grand Prix de Composition Musicale de la Ville de Paris in 1959. It is dedicated to André Girard, who conducted the orchestra at the premiere, with the composer himself as the soloist. Records exist of subsequent performances, including a re-performance in Cannes, a resort town in Southern France known for its film festival (January 14, 1960, conducted by Jacques Bazire, with the composer on piano), and another in Paris (January 15, 1962, on national broadcast, conducted by Dimitri Kolafas with the Orchestre Philharmonique de la Radiodiffusion Française, with the composer on piano). Furthermore, it was adapted into a ballet, with a record of its performance (January 18, 1962, at the Opéra-Comique; choreography by Jean-Bernard Lemoine, set and costume design by Jean Tzamys, conducted by Richard Blareau, with the composer on piano, starring Jean-Bernard Lemoine and Christiane Vlassi).

Although it has a continuous three-part structure, it can essentially be regarded as a three-movement form: fast, slow, fast.

Part I: Allegro Moderato, 4/4 time, C minor (no key signature).

It begins with a long, sonorous melody, but the 32nd notes entwined with the melody represent the stirrings of life awakening. Soon, the piano solo comes to the forefront, moving even more frantically, vividly depicting the glossy sprouting of plants and the vibrant metamorphosis of animals breaking through their shells.

Part II: Andante, 3/4 time, C-sharp major.

It sings a deeply nostalgic melody, full of pathos, to its heart's content. Undoubtedly, it is one of Damase's most exquisite lyrical passages from his early period.

Part III: Allegro, 4/4 time, C major.

Finally, the stage for the full bloom of spring is set. From here, a celebratory song and dance, heralding the arrival of a dazzling, radiant season, unfold with breathtaking momentum. Towards the end, the melody from the second part returns with terrifying power, sprinting towards a spectacular finale. Beyond the piano solo part, which is a culmination of virtuosity, the brilliant orchestration skills demonstrated in his Symphonie (premiered on June 4, 1954, at the Strasbourg Music Festival by the Orchestre National de France conducted by Charles Munch) are fully and splendidly displayed in this work. Particularly impressive is how the piano solo occasionally recedes into the orchestral background, integrating with the orchestra to meticulously weave rich sonorities, reminiscent more of D'Indy's Symphonie sur un chant montagnard français than concertos by Saint-Saëns or Ravel. It can be said that this work clearly demonstrates in practice that Damase was the most legitimate descendant and the last true heir of all conservative trends in France.

Nevertheless, words fail to describe the cascading melodic beauty that overwhelms the listener. Indeed, if one speaks of beauty, there is no music more beautiful than this. Some might say upon first listen that it sounds like film music. However, it is more than that. Damase's works up to the 1950s often contained a chilling intensity within their beauty, and this work, despite its supremely elegant exterior, certainly harbors a subtle trace of madness within. This, in turn, deepens the nuances of its beauty and makes it stand out sharply. To put it boldly, what was decisively present in early Damase, but absent in early Françaix, despite both being precocious geniuses, was precisely this enchanting, almost sinister, aura. It is an ominous beauty, fraught with the danger of ensnaring, toying with, and dragging along the human heart. It must be said that this was a truly rare form of beauty in 20th-century classical music. It is earnestly hoped that not only his refined chamber works but also true masterpieces of this large-scale orchestration will become widely appreciated. I am confident that the brilliant glow of young Damase's talent will surely be revived through live performances.