On 7 February 2017 we have lost a prominent Lithuanian poet and dearest friend of India Vacys Reimeris.


vacys reimeris

Throughout his literary life, he has presented 35 poetry sets, including an amazing collection of unique poems about India "By the white Taj" (1962), memoirs and literary translations of the Russian poetry. In his poetry, Vacys 

Reimeris was always loyal for the traditional stream of Lithuanian literature, nevertheless, he was open for the modern turns of poetry. Themes of his poems touched upon the questions of being, time, the essence of humanity, relationship with nature. Sparks of humour, love and everyday conflicts are also common for his creative works. The poetry of Vacys Reimeris is commonly enclosed to the numerous poetry collections, his poems are widely used by composers and songwriters. He has translated the poetry of Alexander Pushkin, Mikhail Lermontov, Ana Ahmatova and other authors from Russian to Lithuanian.



Vacys Reimeris was born in 1921, in the countryside of Kuršėnai in Northern Lithuania.

During the rise of World War II together with his family had to flee to Latvia and later on, toget

her with other Lithuanians, was moved to Russia. By the invitation of Lithuanian author Juozas Baltrušis, Vacys Reimeris was working on the Lithuanian broadcasts at the Moscow radio station and after the end of the war, he was working as the chief of the Kaunas radio in the year 1944 –1949 and later at the editorial office of the literary journal "Literature and Art" in 1949 –1969.

For a collection of poems „Prie baltojo Tadžo“ (By the White Taj, 1962) about India Vacys Reimeris was awarded the Jawaharlal Nehru Prize (1968). He received the State Prize of the Lithuanian SSR for a collection of poems for children „Šarkos švarkas“ (Magpie's Jacket, 1975). In 1977 he won the Spring Poetry with „Vėjo vynas“ (Wine of the Wind).



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Vacys Reimeris


Pakistan, as if night, dark, centennial, severe

We leave it. We fly to the East.

We rush there earlier to see

Mother India in morning garments:

See, there she is visible under grey fog,

And smells sweet as sandalwood smoke.

My dear Indian land; the stewardess

Pointed through window: "This is distant Delhi."

Like an embroidered gold veil

Sown with fire... he gloomy earth...

It seemed to us that is not a kind of a city...

But surf of ocean gleaming, foaming

Perhaps to flash on the earth brightly;

There's the Milky Way, strewed with stars.

We don't believe our eyes; neighbour is acknowledged

That fiery anthill... the city's light.

"Good Morning, Grey Delhi ! on this new day.

That's why you're scattered wide... fiery...

The seven ancient cities lost in ages

Raise their flaming call above you,

This new age unveiled the curtain...

But politely say good-bye to the stewardess

We wished to remain with her a few moments yet.

But she smiled to us: "Thank you - Delhi."

And wonderful Delhi, with a friendly smile

Wound wreathes of rose around our necks,

We put a scarlet flower in buttonhole...

Your first gift to Lithuanian heart, Delhi.


Translated by G. K. G. Joshi