text_original: The south wind wafted the sharp wood smoke from the chimney across our faces. In the stern Xavier stood immovable against the tiller, his short pipe clutched between his teeth, the colors of his new worsted belt made gorgeous by the rising sun.
text_transcription: THE SOUTH WIND WAFTED THE SHARP WOOD SMOKE FROM THE CHIMNEY ACROSS OUR FACES IN THE STERN ZAVIOR STOOD IMMOVABLE AGAINST THE TILLER HIS SHORT PIPE CLUTCHED BETWEEN HIS TEETH THE COLLARS OF HIS NEW WORSTED BELT MADE GORGEOUS BY THE RISING SUN
phonemes: ðə sˈaʊθ wˈɪnd wˈæftᵻd ðə ʃˈɑːɹp wˈʊd smˈoʊk fɹʌmðə tʃˈɪmni əkɹˌɑːs ˌaʊɚ fˈeɪsᵻz. ɪnðə stˈɜːn zˈeɪviɚ stˈʊd ɪmˈuːvəbəl ɐɡˈɛnst ðə tˈɪlɚ, hɪz ʃˈɔːɹt pˈaɪp klˈʌtʃt bᵻtwˌiːn hɪz tˈiːθ, ðə kˈʌlɚz ʌv hɪz nˈuː wˈɜːstᵻd bˈɛlt mˌeɪd ɡˈɔːɹdʒəs baɪ ðə ɹˈaɪzɪŋ sˈʌn.