Comments about Jurgis Baltrušaitis
Camomile, you mite of whiteness,
To refresh the road I've taken,
Rising from the dust, you stand there,
With your glowing head uplifted...
For a poor man trekking stubbles,
Such a blossom's full of riches –
Now I'm not alone, that's certain –
In earth's void, I'm not forsaken...