The work is done, or near enough,
And I will set aside that stuff
That I have carried o’er the years
And for which I have shed my tears.
No longer will I do that task;
No longer will I have to ask
Myself how I will find the will
To push the stone up that steep hill.
I will be Sisyphus no more;
I will, instead, walk out that door
But one more time, and not again
Will I through it enter in.
To other tasks, I’ll set my hand.
As for this work, let others stand
To it, perform as they would see
It done–and may they find their glee.
The work is done that I will do.
I’ve carried my part of it through,
And now I leave it without rue.