Nyola: 
…Look! Radúz! He’s wandering in the garden, 
with an armful of flowers. He’s walking as in a dream. 
Let us stand aside and observe him from here! 
(They move behind a grove of birch trees)

(Enter Radúz, sleepwalking)
Radúz:
A grey dove sits on a grave, mourning! 
Its happiness is buried in that grave… 
Why does it turn its admonishing gaze towards me?... 
Why do those sad eyes observe me reproachfully?  
Again, in some song, they sing 
that the gentle dove had done no wrong, 
sitting on the rock drinking water— 
and yet they stifled her… 
Ah, I imagine a white dove 
flying towards me…its gentle gaze... 
No, a girl standing in the grim desert 
offered me water for my parched lips 
in her open palms… and I stifled her! 
O, horrible spectres…
Nowhere peace, nowhere calm, always longing 
and mendacious hallucinations! 
After all it is not true that I did that deed... 
Or is it? …
 (He kneels before the tree). 
Only here, only here is there respite from that grief!
Only here is peaceful sleep possible! 
Dear whispering poplar, o, console me once more! 
See, I bring you a fragrant offering…
  (he decorates the tree) 
There in the house is but sadness and emptiness, 
while here with you there is blessed happiness. 
Mother earth has many, many children; she has people,
creatures and plants. 
But most of all she favours plants; she holds them firmly,
firmly to her breast and never, never lets them go! 
You are like her noble child, o slender whispering poplar,
o pensive tree full of grace, 
for I know your swaying comes only from your tenderness, 
not from fear, as it is with people. 
O, grant me to rest my poor head 
on your slender trunk, 
and whisper to me, whisper, dear poplar...
 (He sits, resting his head against the foot of the tree)