in this poem, pushkin also remembers anton delvig, his closest friend, also a poet, he was the author of the texts of famous romances, based on his poems, on delvig’s poems. just as their neighbor in dortoir in the fourth wrote music to pushkin’s poems, this is mikhail lukyanovich yakovlev, at whose apartment yakovlev the lyceum students gathered in recent years. pushkin 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

in this poem, pushkin also remembers anton delvig, his closest friend, also a poet.by their neighbor on... the dormitory on the fourth floor was mikhail lukyanovich yakovlev, yakovlev, in whose apartment lyceum students gathered in recent years. pushkin adored delvig when the wrath of fate befell me, a stranger to everyone, like a homeless orphan, under the storm i bowed my head languidly and waited for you, prophet of the permer maidens.

exclusively in solitude, who outlived everyone. his friends, pushkin recalls in this poem and about anton delvig, his closest friend, also a poet, he was the author of the texts of famous romances, based on his poems, on delvig’s poems, as well as on poems pushkin, the music was written by their neighbor in dortoir on the fourth floor, mikhail lukyanovich yakovlev, yakovlev in the apartment, which... in recent years, lyceum students gathered. pushkin adored delviga when the wrath of fate befell me , a stranger to everyone, like a homeless orphan, under a stormy head i panicked languidly, and i was waiting for you, prophet of the permian maidens, and you came, inspired son of laziness, oh, my delvik, your voice awakened the heat of my heart, lulled for so long, and cheerfully i blessed my fate. the service of mus does not tolerate fuss, it must be beautiful majestic, but youth advises us, crafty , noisy, dreams make us happy, we will come to our senses, but it’s too late, sadly, we look back, not seeing any traces there, tell me, wilhelm, isn’t that what happened to us, my dear brother, according