text_original: And then, one morning when the three of us were turning over the black loam in the patch, while the baby slept peacefully in the shade, a sound came to our ears that made us pause and listen with bated breath. It was the sound of many guns, muffled in the distant forest.
text_transcription: AND THEN ONE MORNING WHEN THE THREE OF US WERE TURNING OVER THE BLACK LOAM IN THE PATCH WHILE THE BABY SLEPT PEACEFULLY IN THE SHADE A SOUND CAME TO OUR EARS THAT MADE US PAUSE AND LISTEN WITH BATED BREATH IT WAS THE SOUND OF MANY GUNS MUFFLED IN THE DISTANT FOREST
phonemes: ænd ðˈɛn, wˈʌn mˈɔːɹnɪŋ wɛn ðə θɹˈiː ʌv ˌʌs wɜː tˈɜːnɪŋ ˌoʊvɚ ðə blˈæk lˈoʊm ɪnðə pˈætʃ, wˌaɪl ðə bˈeɪbi slˈɛpt pˈiːsfəli ɪnðə ʃˈeɪd, ɐ sˈaʊnd kˈeɪm tʊ ˌaʊɚɹ ˈɪɹz ðæt mˌeɪd ˌʌs pˈɔːz ænd lˈɪsən wɪð bˈeɪɾᵻd bɹˈɛθ. ɪt wʌzðə sˈaʊnd ʌv mˈɛni ɡˈʌnz, mˈʌfəld ɪnðə dˈɪstənt fˈɔːɹɪst.