Prokop, the forest herdsman, Zwiesel (1887-1965)

"I sleep and sleep not when I lie in my hut at night. But things I see, frightening. I don't sleep because I can hear my bulls out there and I hear the wind and the rain. Once I saw the wind bringing fire and all the trees burn like matches. Another time I saw that everything is in decay, no human can be seen and no house, only ruins and debris. And again and again clouds come, fire-red, and it flashes, but it does not thunder."

"Once everything is dark down on Waldhaus Street [ed. comment: road near Zwiesel]. Someone goes around with a burning branch and shouts: 'Am I really the last one? Am I really still the only one?' And again the sky becomes yellow like a lemon as it hangs far down on the horizon. No bird sings. I do not find any bull or water anymore. Neither on the mountain nor down in the Regen (ed. comment: river near Zwiesel) you will find any drop. It had to come in such a way, because the people believe in nothing. Everyone seems to think that he lives forever and everyone thinks of what he appears to be and still can become. There will be a time when they all begin to become crazy and think that they can live from prudence and not from work. Those who work will be fewer and fewer. Those who live off the working ones will become more numerous. To rule is thus easier than to work." ¹

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