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!