Oleg Ivanovich Dal. (№ 236391)

And break me broken,
And torment me tormented,
Bent, bent to the ground,
I sat up...
I did not swear, not swore,
I easily lived in the world.
At least four walls fought,
The wolf on the moon howling...
You can spit from a hill into a river
To push, to strain
And bounce a couple of inches.
Can the soul of man
To isolate for powder...