If Bontsie had had a tombstone, an archæologist might have found it a hundred years later, and Bontsie's name would have resounded again in our atmosphere.
He was but a shadow: his picture does not live in anybody's heart; his memory does not exist in anybody's mind!
He left no child, no possessions! He had lived in misery, and he died in misery.
Had it not been for the noise of the crowd, some one might have heard the snapping of Bontsie's bones under a heavy burden; if the world had had more time, some one might have noticed that Bontsie's eyes were dim and his eyes frightfully sunken for one alive; that even when he carried no load on his shoulders, his head was bent to the ground as if he were looking for the grave! If there were as few people as there are horses in the street cars, some one might, perhaps, have asked: What has become of Bontsie?
When Bontsie was taken to the hospital, his corner in the basement was not left unoccupied; ten people of his sort had been waiting for it, and it was auctioned off to the highest bidder; when they carried him from the hospital bed to the morgue, twenty poor people were waiting for his bed. When he left the morgue, they brought in twenty people who had been killed by a falling wall.... Who knows how long he will rest
wēisst, wie lang er wet ruhig wōhnen in Keewer? Wer wēisst, wieviel es warten schōn auf dem Stückel Platz....
Still gebōren, still gelebt, still gestorben un' noch stiller begrāben.
Nor nischt asō is' gewesen auf jener Welt! Dorten hat Bonzje's Tōdt a grōssen Rōschem gemacht!
Der grōsser Schōfer vun Moschiach's Zeiten hāt geklungen in alle sieben Himmlen: Bonzje Schweig is' nifter gewor'en! Die grösste Malochim mit die brēit'ste Flügel senen geflōgen un' Ēiner dem Anderen übergegeben: Bonzje is' "nischbakesch" gewor'en "bischiwo schel majlo"! In Ganeeden is' a Rasch, a Ssimche, a Geruder: "Bonzje Schweig! A Spass Bonzje Schweig!!!"
Junge Malochimlech mit brilljantene Aeugelech, goldene drāht-arbeitene Flügelech un' silberene Pantöffelech senen Bonzjen ankegen geloffen mit Ssimche! Der Gerasch vun die Flügel, dās Klappen vun die Pantöffelech un' dās froehliche Lachen vun die junge, frische, rosige Maülechlech hāt verfüllt alle Himmlen un' is' zugekummen bis zum Kisse-ha-kowed, un' Gott allēin hāt äuch schōn gewusst, as Bonzje Schweig kummt!