Sisyphus
I, Sisyphus, am doomed for wisdom to wander here
Among the rabble dead toiling in primeval despair
And what is my sin? Why does my stone rolls down
Each time I spend myself to bring it up? I but own
One fault, not love for knowledge as much as love
For life, and so my constant combat with our Jove,
The constant robber of mortal virgins, and breaker
Of father's heart, all I asked for was a little water
For my city, for people that I cared about. This crime
To thirst tangled me in the schemes of hell. Time
Cannot redeem my labor here, nor arguments win
Reprieve for such a mortal sin. I, Sisyphus, can't win!
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