We are different like land and water. Love poems by Marina Tsvetaeva

Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva

You and I are different
Like land and water
You and I are different
Like a ray with a shadow.
I assure you, it's not a problem
And the best purchase.

You and I are different
What a blessing!
Perfectly complement
We are each other.
What can equality give us?
Just a feeling of a vicious circle.

The work is dated 1915 - the time of Tsvetaeva's youth, replete with interesting acquaintances and violent hobbies. According to the lyrical heroine, her heart is "too full", and every day of a busy life is like a small wave.

The beginning of the poem is organized by an antithesis, emphasizing the difference in the characters of the lyrical couple. The idea of dissimilarity is intended to be conveyed by a lexical anaphora and two comparisons illustrating the degree of contrast. As components of comparative constructions, the author chooses traditional pairs: the earthly firmament and the water element, sunlight and shadow.

Against the backdrop of ardent assurances sounding in the first lines, the conclusion that the lyrical “I” makes at the end of the first stanza looks unexpected. The opposite of beliefs, preferences or habits is not a sentence or a reason for a break, but a gift of fate, the “best acquisition” for lovers.

In the second stanza, the subject of speech explains his own paradoxical conclusion, demonstrating a deep knowledge of the laws of psychology. The refrain about dissimilarity, to which the poetess refers for the third time, in the new context is endowed with a positive, life-affirming sound. Happiness lies in the fact that the difference of characters is fraught with positive potential: it enriches relationships and conveys the diversity of a contradictory and beautiful world. The short text is completed by the author's aphorism, in which similarity is identified with cyclicity, reminiscent of running in a vicious circle - hopeless, meaningless, exhausting the soul.

In an effort to give the lyrical narrative a special expressiveness and depict the immediacy of the experience, the poet shares the first two lines in each of the stanzas. The rhythmic pattern of the work also becomes more complicated, approaching artless colloquial speech.

A sincere optimist, Tsvetaeva's heroine wants to convince the lyrical addressee of the inherent value of a high feeling, for the sake of which it is worth rejecting conventions. An allegorical picture representing the need for love as the basis for the existence of all living things is depicted in the poem "Two trees want each other." The poetess wraps the eternal law of earthly life in a laconic formula: "One to the other."

The motives of similarity or contrast of psychological portraits are reflected in the work "You and I are only two echoes ...". The spiritual kinship of lovers reveals a disharmonious side that brings sadness, torment, and heaviness in relationships.

As you know, St. Petersburg has long been a favorite character for many authors. Legends are composed about him, poems are dedicated to him, his image is seen in paintings and novels. This city subjugates everyone, forcing history to revolve in and around it. Here is the new production of Yuri Butusov in the theater. Lensoveta, which premiered on May 11 and 12, is dedicated to St. Petersburg, as well as to the writer who sang the phantasmagoria of this urban image. We are talking about a play called “City. Marriage. Gogol", which was based on the comedy "Marriage" by N.V. Gogol, one of the most popular theatrical plays. However, Yuri Butusov, as usual, did not come out as a comedy, but rather a tragicomedy - a story about loneliness and dreams of a big metropolis, where it is so easy for a small person to get lost.

The theme of the city is placed first in the title of the performance, and this is perhaps one of the strongest and most successful lines of the production. Here the themes typical of classical Russian novels continue, in which Petersburg is an independent hero. For three and a half hours, the viewer sees an artistic image of the city, sung by Nikolai Gogol and Fyodor Dostoevsky (fragments of the novel "The Idiot" and the novel in verse "Eugene Onegin" sound), Anna Akhmatova and Andrei Bely. It is poetic, romantic, at times cruel to its inhabitants, yet not devoid of a modern spirit, filled with countless tourists and cars. The scenography of the performance is distinguished by extreme minimalism with elements of light chaos (artist Nikolai Slobodyanik), completely black space draws in and absorbs careless onlookers. This usual directorial decision makes it possible not only to see the city, but to feel it, hear it, as the voices of the streets of St. Petersburg sound in the background.

It is in this artistic framework that "The Marriage" itself unfolds - Gogol's story about the bride Agafya Tikhonovna, performed by the Honored Artist of Russia Anna Kovalchuk and the employee Podkolesin (Oleg Fedorov) who is wooing her. These two rush about, suffer, constantly choose and gain something, cannot understand what to do with their lives, and how to connect them together. In general, they follow all the meanings from the famous poem by Marina Tsvetaeva, which also found a place in the play:

"You and I are different,
Like land and water
You and I are different
Like a ray with a shadow.
I assure you, it's not a problem
And the best buy
We are different, what a blessing!
We complement each other perfectly.
What can equality give us?
Only the feeling of a vicious circle ... "

This touching, poignant, satirical, in some places insanely funny, but more often a sad story develops quite freely, from time to time returning to episodes already played. The repetitions of the text and the deliberately slow chewing of them several times, the chaotic order of the scenes, Agafya Tikhonovna changing roles several times - these traditional directorial techniques of Butusov, unfortunately, this time do not make the usual strong impression on the audience, whose attention is already scattered from the middle of the first act . Perhaps, the excitement of the premiere is affecting, and that is why the performance is rather difficult and not entirely organic, in places it is very dragged out and sometimes falls apart into separate episodes. The first part of the production is much denser, richer, and more varied in mood, unlike the second, where scene after scene, as if in a hurry, runs into each other, breaking the whole harmony of the composition.

Most of the witty and satirical etudes, which are intentionally knocked out of the tragic rhythm of the narrative, belong to the third Gogol sense of the performance. For example, the trio of suitors wooing Agafya Tikhonovna looks charming. Oyichnitsa, Anuchkin and Zhevakin (Sergey Migitsko, Evgeny Filatov and Alexander Novikov), as if in a wine-shop, sing a cappella famous Soviet songs about daisies, buttercups, pilots, girls and planes. This and other music becomes another full-fledged hero of the performance, the sun around which everything revolves. And if some dramatic episodes raise questions, then the music, along with the ideal acting plasticity, sensitively and generously makes it possible to feel the full depth of the tragic story of two adults, reminding the audience again and again how important it is to love and be loved.

Elena Bachmanova, especially for MUSECUBE
The report uses photographs provided by the Theater. Lensoviet

Analysis of Tsvetaeva's poem "You and I are different ..."

Marina Tsvetaeva is an amazing woman of amazing destiny. Marina Tsvetaeva is a classic "artist" - a creator, an unrecognized and impoverished genius during her lifetime, whom the whole country began to adore only after her death - suicide. Marina Tsvetaeva grew up in an intelligent family, was fluent in several foreign languages, lost her mother early, got married early and gave birth to a child, loved men very much - she loved and knew how to love, she was often called "Casanova in a skirt", because. she had a lot of lovers with a living and jealous, but loving husband.

With the outbreak of the First World War and the socialist revolution in the life of Marina Tsvetaeva, it was not just a black streak in life - her life plunged into the impenetrable darkness of emigrant hopelessness, a beggarly existence - her husband was sick, her second child died of starvation, the family existed on meager income from Tsvetaeva's translations and her little daughter's sewing work. Upon returning to the USSR, Tsvetaeva's husband was shot in the dungeons, but Marina Tsvetaeva never found out about this, although she suspected the possibility of such a death. Her daughter Ariadne was also arrested.

There was simply nothing to live on. And then the Second World War began, there was no work - Marina Tsvetaeva - an outstanding woman poet, a gifted creative person, whose poems and songs were admired by the entire USSR, were not even taken to the position of a dishwasher in the Litburo! From despair, from a continuous series of humiliations, deprivations and defeats, Marina Tsvetaeva committed suicide on August 31, 1941, asking her son George for forgiveness for this step ...

Despite the terrible, tragic fate, Marina Tsvetaeva's poems are full of love and life, faith in God and in the best. Until now, love poems by Marina Tsvetaeva are considered the most original, funny and unusual love poems - she was a surprisingly inventive and non-standard poet and prose writer. Some people prefer Anna Akhmatova's beautiful love poems, but personally they seem to me too hopeless, hopeless, somehow hopeless. And the love poems of Marina Tsvetaeva, of course, can also hardly be called too cheerful and optimistic, but they are somehow sad in a bright way - her poems are read easily and without strain.

I like that you are not sick of me

I like that you are not sick of me,
I like that I'm not sick of you,
That never a heavy globe of the earth
Won't float under our feet.

I like being funny
Dissolute - and do not play with words,
And do not blush with a suffocating wave,
Lightly touching sleeves.

I also like that you are with me
Calmly hug another
Don't read to me in hellfire
Burn for the fact that I do not kiss you.

That my tender name, my gentle, not
You mention neither day nor night - in vain ...
What never in church silence
They will not sing over us: hallelujah!

Thank you with heart and hand
Because you me, not knowing yourself!
So love: for my peace of the night,
For the rarity of meetings at sunset.

For our non-festivities under the moon,
For the sun, not above our heads,
Because you are sick - alas! - not by me
Because I'm sick - alas! - not you!

This love verse is a classic love lyric. The words of this beautiful and touching love poem are based on a sad, lyrical song that everyone knows, because every new year all the inhabitants of the former Soviet Union watch an intricate love story that begins with our men going to the bathhouse ... "I like that you are not sick with me, I like that I am not sick with you ... "

You and I are different, like land and water ...

You and I are different
Like land and water
You and I are different
Like a ray with a shadow.

I assure you, it's not a problem
And the best purchase.

You and I are different
What a blessing!
Perfectly complement
We are each other.

What can equality give us?
Just a feeling of a vicious circle.

Excellent poems by Marina Tsvetaeva about the different essence of a woman and a man. Comparison of Woman and Man as Land and Water - can there be anything even more beautiful, is there a more successful comparison, metaphor? A genius, that's why a genius, to notice what is hidden from the eyes of ordinary people.

Frivolity

Frivolity! - Sweet sin
Dear companion and my dear enemy!
You put laughter in my eyes
And mazurka splashed into my veins.

Taught not to keep rings,
With whomever Life would marry me!
Start at random from the end
And finish before the start.

Be like a stem and be like steel
In a life where we can do so little...
Chocolate cure sadness
And laugh in the face of passers-by!

A beautiful feminine verse about a changeable female essence. "Chocolate cures sadness" - this is so relevant today, a hundred years later, writing these lyrical poems about a woman and her essence ...

NEW MOON

The new month has risen over the meadow,
Above the dewy border.
Dear, distant and alien,
Come, you will be a friend.

During the day - I hide, during the day - I am silent.
A month in the sky - no urine!
On these monthly nights
I rush to my beloved shoulder.

I won't ask myself: "Who is he?"
Everyone will tell - your lips!
Only during the day hugs are rude,
Only during the day the impulse is ridiculous.

In the afternoon, tormented by a proud demon,
I lie with a smile on my lips.
Well, at night... Darling, distant... Ah!
The crescent moon is already above the forest!

Wonderful, beautiful love poems about tender first or second love. Who loved, he will understand that "Everything will be told - your lips!", He will remember how he ran and aspired to his first love dates ...

IN PARIS

Houses up to the stars, and the sky below
The earth in a daze is close to him.
In big and joyful Paris
All the same secret longing.

Noisy evening boulevards
The last ray of dawn has faded.
Everywhere, everywhere, all couples, couples,
Trembling of the lips and insolence of the eyes.

I'm alone here. To the trunk of a chestnut
Cling so sweet head!
And Rostand's verse is crying in my heart
As there, in abandoned Moscow.

Paris at night is alien and pitiful to me,
Dearer to the heart is the old delirium!
I'm going home, there is sadness of violets
And someone's affectionate portrait.

There is someone's gaze sadly brotherly.
There's a delicate profile on the wall.
Rostand and the martyr of Reichstadt
And Sarah - everyone will come in a dream!

In big and joyful Paris
I dream of grass, clouds,
And further laughter, and the shadows are closer,
And the pain is still deep.

A sad and beautiful verse about the loneliness of an emigrant in a distant and cold, alien Paris. Who was loved and loved, whirled in a whirlpool of love passion, and then was thrown overboard in a love boat, he understands what these beautiful and sad verses are about...

World

The world began in the darkness of the nomad camp:
It roams the night land - trees,
It roams with golden wine - bunches,
It is the stars that wander from house to house,
It is the rivers that start the way - back!
And I want to sleep on your chest.

NINE

To the consolations of a piano friend
You left your favorite books.
Someone's whisper in the tunes arose,
Anxiety and sadness.

Those blue summer days
The same in the sky and the stars and clouds ...
You closed your tired hands,
And your face, Nina, is in shadow.

Like a request for a shy one,
The last chord was repeated.
Someone's image from the heart is not erased! ..
Everything is as before: portraits, notebooks,

Sad lilies of the valley in a vase of flowers
There's a cat world on the couch...
In the quiet rooms of a small cottage
Everything is as before. Just like you before.

Your childish gaze, which disturbs sadly,
I'm from the heart, oh no, I won't erase it.
I loved you like a sister
And softer, and deeper, perhaps!

Like a sister, and now far away,
Like a princess from Andersen's dreams...
Here in Paris where the Seine rolls
I'm with you, as there, on the Oka.

Let there be silence between us
And the intricacy of complex knots.
There are tunes, tunes without words,
O beloved, distant Nina!

They say that Marina Tsvetaeva was not alien to lesbian love ... They say that she left her husband for two whole years for the sake of her love for a woman - one translator and poetess. And if all these idle talks are true, then this gentle and beautiful verse dedicated to Nina is the best and most original confirmation of this.

CAPTIVE

She rests on embroidered pillows,
Slightly excited by the flashing beam.
What did you dream about? Thinking about what?
About new dresses? About new toys?

The captive naughty languished all day
In the chambers of the gloomy prison of Escurial.
From the oppression of the magnificent, from the strict chorale
Takes her night shadow to paradise.

Pale vignettes did not lie in books:
A heavy canopy opens,
And laughter is heard ringing mandolin,
And castanets sigh about love.

On bended knee, waiting for a curly page
Her, heiress, bewitching smile.
Alleys are gloomy, fish splash in the pools
And a silver, heavy crew is waiting.

But ... all dreams! The moment of reckoning will come;
Silk will tremble from an evil tear of an eyelash,
And in the morning about royal duty
Severe abbots will begin to repeat.

An unbanal poem about love, luxury and the inevitable retribution for the sins of youth and frivolous love. Beautiful, charming, airy and original. Marina Tsvetaeva is a unique poetess.

A boy running briskly...

A boy running briskly
I presented to you.
You laughed soberly
To my evil words:

"Prank is my life, my name is a prank!
Laugh, who is not stupid!"
And did not see fatigue
Pale lips.

You were drawn to the moons
Two huge eyes.
- Too pink and young
I was for you!

Melting lighter than snow
I was like steel.
Ball jumping from a running start
Right on the piano

Grinding sand under the tooth or
Steel on glass...
- You just didn't get it.
formidable arrow

My light words and tenderness
Anger on display...
Stone hopelessness
All my tricks!

A light and kind poem about youthful impudence, enthusiasm and, perhaps, the first love excitement - the first love, childhood passion.

Be gentle, mad and noisy

To be gentle, mad and noisy,
- So eager to live!
Charming and smart
To be lovely!

Tenderer than all who are and were,
Know no guilt...
- About the indignation that is in the grave
We are all equal!

Become what nobody likes
- Oh, become like ice!
Not knowing what was
Nothing will come

Forget how the heart broke
And grew together again
Forget your words and voice
And shiny hair.

Antique turquoise bracelet
on a stalk,
On this narrow, this long
My hand...

How to draw a cloud
from afar,
For a mother-of-pearl handle
The hand was taken

How the legs jumped
Through the weave
Forget how close on the road
A shadow ran.

Forget how fiery in the azure,
How silent are the days...
- All their pranks, all storms
And all the poetry!

My completed miracle
Disperse laughter.
I, forever pink, will
The palest of all.

And they will not open - so it is necessary
- Oh, sorry!
Not for a sunset, not for a look,
Not for fields.

My drooping eyelids.
- Not for a flower!
My land, forgive forever
For all ages.

And so will the moons melt
And melt the snow
When this young one rushes by,
A lovely age.

Excellent, beautiful poems for girls and young girls. For those who love pink and tenderness, this verse should become an anthem. A kind and sonorous, young and perky, funny and light poem, which is easy to read, as if breathing in the charm of his youth.

Taking your loved ones on the road...

Gathering loved ones on the road
I sing songs to them in memory -
To be accepted somehow
What once gave themselves.

Green path
I take them to the crossroads.
You tirelessly, wind, sing,
You, dear, do not be hard on them!

Gray cloud, do not shed tears,
As for the holiday they are shod!
Pinch your sting, snake,
Throw, robber, your fierce knife.

You, passing beauty,
Be their happy bride.
Work your mouth for me -
The King of Heaven will reward you!

Flare up, bonfires, in the forests,
Disperse the berlozhy animals.
Mother of God in heaven
Remember my passers-by!

Attempted Jealousy: How do you live with another?!

How do you live with another
Easier right? Paddle kick!
Coastal line
Will the memory fade soon?

About me floating island
(On the sky - not on the waters)!
Souls, souls! Be your sisters
Not mistresses - you!

How do you live with downtime
A woman? Without deities?
empress from the throne
Have you overthrown (did you descend from it)?

How do you live - fuss?
Shrinking? Getting up - how?
With a duty of immortal vulgarity
How are you, poor man?

"Convulsions and interruptions -
Enough! I'll rent a house."
How do you live with anyone -
My Chosen One!?

More characteristic and edible -
Sned? Come on - do not blame ...
How do you live with likeness -
To you who trampled Sinai!

How do you live with a stranger,
Here? Rib - love?
Shame Zebus' reins
Doesn't whip your forehead?

How do you live - are you healthy?
Maybe? Singing - how?
With a plague of immortal conscience
How are you, poor man?

How do you live with the goods
Market? Quit - cool?
After the marbles of Carrara
How do you live with dust?

Gypsum? (From a block carved
God - and completely broken!)
How do you live with a hundred thousandth:
To you who know Lilith!

Market novelty
Are you full? Cool down to magic
How do you live with the earth
A woman, without a sixth

Feelings?! Well, for the head: happy?!
Not? In a hole without depths:
How are you, honey? Is it harder
Is it the same as me with others?

I defiantly wear his ring!

I defiantly wear his ring!
- Yes, in Eternity - a wife, not on paper.
His overly narrow face
Like a sword.

His mouth is silent, corners down,
Excruciatingly gorgeous eyebrows.
Tragically merged in his face
Two ancient bloods.

He is thin with the first subtlety of the branches.
His eyes are beautifully useless!
Under the wings of outstretched eyebrows -
Two abysses.

In his person I am faithful to chivalry,
To all of you who lived and died without fear!
Such - in fateful times
They compose stanzas - and go to the chopping block.

Marina

Who is made of stone, who is made of clay,
And I'm silver and sparkle!
I care - treason, my name is Marina,
I am the mortal foam of the sea.

Who is made of clay, who is made of flesh,
The coffin and tombstones...
- In the font of the sea baptized - and in flight
His - incessantly broken!

Through every heart, through every net
My willfulness will break through.
Me - do you see these dissolute curls?
You can't make earthly salt.

Crushing on your granite knees,
I am resurrected with every wave!
Long live foam - cheerful foam,
High sea foam!

Poems about love. The most beautiful, original, funny and best love poems by Marina Tsvetaeva.

I wrote on the blackboard

I wrote on the slate board
And on the leaves of faded fans,
And on the river, and on the sea sand,
Skates on the ice, and a ring on the windows ...

And on the trunks, which are hundreds of winters,
And finally, for everyone to know!
What do you love! love! love! love!
Signed - a rainbow of heaven.

How I wanted everyone to bloom
For centuries with me! under my fingers!
And how then, bowing his forehead on the table,
Crossed out the name...

But you, in the hand of a corrupt scribe
Clamped! you, that sting my heart!
Unsold by me! inside the ring!
You will survive on the tablets.

DECEMBER AND JANUARY

In December at dawn there was happiness,
It lasted for a moment.
Real, first happiness
Not from books!

In January, there was grief at dawn,
It lasted an hour.
Real bitter grief

For the first time!

Bitterness!

Bitterness! Bitterness! Eternal flavor
On your lips, oh passion!
Bitterness! Bitterness! Eternal temptation -
More final fall.

I kiss from bitterness
All who are young and good.
You from bitterness - another
Lead by the hand at night.

I eat with bread, I swallow with water
Bitterness-sorrow, bitterness-sadness.
There is one herb
In your meadows, O Russia.

full moon

Full moon and bear fur
And bells light dance ...
The most frivolous hour! - I
Deepest hour.

I was wised by the headwind,
The snow appeased my eyes,
On the hill the monastery is bright
And from the snow - holy.

You are snowflakes from the chest of a sable
Kiss me, friend
I look at the tree - in the field
And to the lunar circle.

Behind the broad back of the coachman
Two heads will not meet.
The Lord begins to dream to me,
Retired - you.

In the black sky the words are written

In the black sky the words are inscribed -
And beautiful eyes blinded ...
And we are not afraid of the deathbed,
And the passionate bed is not sweet to us.

In sweat - writing, in sweat - plowing!
We know a different zeal:
Light fire, dancing over the curls,
A breath of inspiration!

Are you holy, or are you not more sinful

Are you holy, or are you not more sinful,
You enter into life, or your path is behind,
Oh, just love, love him more tenderly!

Like a boy, cradle on your chest
Do not forget that caresses are more needed
And suddenly don't wake up from sleep with a hug.

Be forever with him: let them teach loyalty
You his sadness and gentle look.

Be forever with him: his doubts torment,
Touch it with the movement of the sisters.

But if dreams get bored with sinlessness,
Manage to light a monstrous fire!

Do not exchange a nod with anyone boldly,
Sleep in yourself longing for the past.

Be the one to him, whom I did not dare to be:
Do not ruin his dreams with fear!

Be the one to him who I could not be:
Love without measure and love to the end!

SIGNS

Like a mountain carried in the hem -
Whole body pain!
I know love by pain
Whole body lengthwise.

As if the field in me was torn apart
For any storm.
I recognize love by giving
Everyone and everything nearby.

They dug a hole in me
To the basics, where pitch.
I recognize love by the vein,
Whole body lengthwise

Moaning. Draft like a mane
Fanning, Hun:
I recognize love by breakdown
The most faithful strings

Throat, - throat gorges
Rust, living salt.
I recognize love by the crack,
Not! trill
Whole body length!

Yesterday I looked into my eyes...

Yesterday I looked into your eyes
And now - everything is squinting to the side!
Yesterday, before the birds sat,
All larks today are crows!

I'm stupid and you're smart
Alive and I'm dumbfounded.
O cry of women of all times:
"My dear, what have I done to you?!"

And her tears are water, and blood -
Water, - in blood, in tears washed!
Not a mother, but a stepmother - Love:
Don't expect judgment or mercy.

They take away cute ships,
The white road leads them away ...
And a groan stands along the whole earth:

Yesterday I was still at my feet!
Equated with the Chinese power!
Immediately unclenched both hands,
Life fell out - a rusty penny!

Child killer on trial
I stand - unloving, timid.
I'll tell you to hell:
"My dear, what have I done to you?"

I'll ask for a chair, I'll ask for a bed:
"For what, for what do I endure and suffer?"
"Kissed - to wheel:
Kiss the other," they answer.

I taught to live in the fire itself,
I threw it myself - into the icy steppe!
That's what you, dear, did to me!
My dear, what have I done to you?

I know everything - do not argue!
Again sighted - no longer a lover!
Where love retreats
There comes Death the gardener.

Itself - what a tree to shake!
In time, the ripe apple falls ...
- For everything, for everything, forgive me,
My dear, what have I done to you!

Poems about love. The most beautiful, original, funny and best love poems by Marina Tsvetaeva.

Your tender mouth is a solid kiss...

Your tender mouth is a solid kiss...
- And that's all, and I'm just like a beggar.
Who am I now? - United? - No, a thousand!
Conqueror? - No, conquest!

Is it love - or love,
Feather a whim - or the root cause,
Is it languishing according to the rank of an angel,
Or a little pretense - by vocation ...

Soul sorrow, eyes charm,
Is it a stroke of a pen - ah! - doesn't matter,
What will this mouth be called - how long
Your tender mouth is a solid kiss!

Terrible fate, beautiful poetry. How life is unpredictable! Some untalented poets and writers roll around like cheese in butter all their lives, while others - undoubtedly talented and gifted, truly creative and original personalities toil all their lives without a stake, without a yard, without the usual female or male happiness, and die unrecognized geniuses to become everything after death. Is it fair? Was the Soviet government fair to the author of the most famous song in the USSR from the film “The Irony of Fate or Enjoy Your Bath!” “I like that you are not sick of me” and a number of other masterpieces? But as a result, we have beautiful and light, graceful, almost ringing and kind, sad lyrical poems about love, jealousy, loneliness, about life...

“We are different…” Marina Tsvetaeva

You and I are different
Like land and water
You and I are different
Like a ray with a shadow.
I assure you, it's not a problem
And the best purchase.

You and I are different
What a blessing!
Perfectly complement
We are each other.
What can equality give us?
Just a feeling of a vicious circle.

Analysis of Tsvetaeva's poem "You and I are different ..."