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Englischer Text
It has been lost to us a long time ago, however; memories remain forever
Once upon a time, and this is not a fairy tale, it was possible for two visitors to enter the village from opposite ends at the same time and meet later in the day at the local inn at the center of the village over a glass of Landskron Beer, or a large can of coffee to exchange the following observations:
Lets suppose, since I prefer pleasant weather, that it is a cloudless, sunny, warm July day. Our visitors, each on their respective end of the village, had been lost in deep thought at the edge of a large grain growing field, of which there were many. A gentle warm breeze coming out of the south moved the plants in a waving motion back and forth, creating the illusion of softly rolling waves on a large lake.
Further along the way, they encounter groups of bathing clad children frolicking in the creek, which hugs the village in its entire length. Some of the boys are attempting to catch trout of which there are many swimming in the creek, with their hands.
Our visitors, in the early afternoon happened to have met in the local inn's yard and settled underneath a large shady tree. The man is enjoying a mild cigar and a cold glass of Landskron beer, the lady is indulging herself on a calorie rich, oversized pastry along with a large can of coffee. Almost in unison they notice the tall tree across the street in the post office yard, on top of the tree storks have built a nest, out of it, two pint sized beaks are pointed toward the sky. They are eagerly awaiting their lunch, which their parents carry in their beaks cruising overhead.
Except for the soft noise of the wind flowing through space, the happy voices of the children filling the air and an occasional command shouted by a farmer to his animals, the village is enveloped in a peaceful solitude. Hard working tradesmen and farmers are only too eager to lay down their hoes, plowes and hammers for a while to chat with the visitors. This has been a time tested custom since the villages earliest recorded history, 1285, whether its name was Sar, Soer, Zoraw, Sohra or since 1938, Kesselbach.
This idyllic scene came to an ubrupt and painful end on June 26, 1945, when the entire village population was uprooted and expelled by Polish authorities as a result of the consequences of the outcome at the end of WWII. Territories east of the Oder/Neisse River had been awarded by the victor nations at the Yalta conference to Poland. The German population was forced to resettle in the remaining German territory. The vast majority settled on the fringes of the German/Polish border in the faint hope that they once again will be allowed to return home. A few scattered into all four corners of the world.
Internet browsers are invited to a visit into our village as it once was a long time ago. The village that was our home. An oasis of beauty, simplicity and good character.
The Kesselbach, as we like to remember it
