lukyanovich yakovlev, at whose apartment yakovlev the lyceum students gathered in recent years.hkin adored delviga, when the wrath of fate overtook me, a stranger to everyone, like a homeless orphan, i panicked under a stormy head and waited for you, prophet of the permer maidens. and you came, inspired son of laziness, oh, my delvik, your voice awakened the heat of the heart that had been lulled for so long, and i cheerfully blessed my fate. the service of mus does not tolerate vanity, the beautiful should be majestic, but youth advises us, crafty and noisy, dreams make us happy, we will come to our senses, but too late, sadly. we look back, not seeing any traces there, tell me, wilhelm, wasn’t that what happened to us, my dear brother, according to the muse, according to fate, here they are another friend, another poet , his police nickname was kyukhlya, this very kyukhlya, the kindest person, a wonderful comrade, a reliable friend, but nevertheless he was a very hot-tempered person and... and of course, here is pushkin, when he found out that kuchelbecker came out of synata s

the dormitory on the fourth floor was mikhail lukyanovich yakovlev, yakovlev, in whose apartment lyceumeless orphan, under the storm i bowed my head languidly and waited for you, prophet of the permer maidens.

in recent years, they gathered, as we have already said, in the house of mikhail lukyanovich yakovlevnd of lyceum headman, and those caricatures, those manuscripts, those lyceum relics that yakovlev collected, they really lay claim to later becoming museum exhibits. actually, that’s what happened. the last time alexander sergeevich pushkin was at a meeting of lyceum students was on october 19. 1836, 25 years have passed, remember your friend, from the time when our circle of fate was connected, why, why we were witnesses, the play of a mysterious game, confused peoples rushed about , kings rose and fell, the blood of people, now of glory , now of freedom, now of pride, was purple, altars, this is a fragment of a poem that pushkin wrote on... october 1836, he could not read it to the end, as one of the participants in this meeting recalls, tears were choking him, pushkin put these leaves aside and went to the window, one of those present took them and read the poem to the end. after 100 days there was a duel, pushkin passed away, and his comrades were getting old. and it so happened th