Baku at Night

Reaching down to the starless heavy sea
in the pitch-black night,
Baku is a sunny wheatfield.
High above on a hill,
grains of light hit my face by the handfuls,
and the music in the air flows like the Bosporus.
High above on a hill,
my heart goes out like a raft
                             into the endless absence,
                             beyond memory
                             down to the starless heavy sea
                             in the pitch dark.