Virelai

I feel ev'ry tiny grain
of the world, but it is plain
now that I do not feel pain,
though the wind that stings is cold,

and I think I search in vain
for what my brain
needs to flee from stupor's hold.

When I touch the fire or rain,
or pierce a vein,
I can know what lies untold,

but inside, a pool has lain,
and it steams and makes me strain,
and all other hurt is gain
next to heartache, new or old.

I feel ev'ry tiny grain
of the world, but it is plain
now that I do not feel pain,
though the wind that stings is cold.