text_original: Casey was his own audience, and the light upon him was the glory of the setting sun. A nightingale sang in his heart, and he realized that this was his hour. Here the bloody, hard years found their reward.
text_transcription: CASEY WAS HIS OWN AUDIENCE AND THE LIGHT UPON HIM WAS THE GLORY OF THE SETTING SUN A NIGHTINGALE SANG IN HIS HEART AND HE REALIZED THAT THIS WAS HIS HOUR HERE THE BLOODY HARD YEARS FOUND THEIR REWARD
phonemes: kˈeɪsi wʌz hɪz ˈoʊn ˈɔːdiəns, ænd ðə lˈaɪt əpˌɑːn hˌɪm wʌzðə ɡlˈɔːɹi ʌvðə sˈɛɾɪŋ sˈʌn. ɐ nˈaɪɾɪŋɡˌeɪl sˈæŋ ɪn hɪz hˈɑːɹt, ænd hiː ɹˈiːəlaɪzd ðæt ðɪs wʌz hɪz ˈaʊɚ. hˈɪɹ ðə blˈʌdi, hˈɑːɹd jˈɪɹz fˈaʊnd ðɛɹ ɹᵻwˈɔːɹd.