text_original: On that slope the wind always blew, and always the sand seeped, dusting over everything, imperceptibly changing the surface of the earth. The desert was still at work. Nature was no respecter of graves. Life was nothing.
text_transcription: ON THAT SLOPE THE WIND ALWAYS BLEW AND ALWAYS THE SAND SEAT DUSTING OVER EVERYTHING IMPERCEPTIBLY CHANGING THE SURFACE OF THE EARTH THE DESERT WAS STILL AT WORK NATURE WAS NO RESPECTRE OF GRAVES LIFE WAS NOTHING
phonemes: ˌɔn ðæt slˈoʊp ðə wˈɪnd ˈɔːlweɪz blˈuː, ænd ˈɔːlweɪz ðə sˈænd sˈiːpt, dˈʌstɪŋ ˌoʊvɚɹ ˈɛvɹɪθˌɪŋ, ɪmpɚsˈɛptᵻbli tʃˈeɪndʒɪŋ ðə sˈɜːfɪs ʌvðɪ ˈɜːθ. ðə dˈɛzɚt wʌz stˈɪl æt wˈɜːk. nˈeɪtʃɚ wʌz nˈoʊ ɹᵻspˈɛktɚɹ ʌv ɡɹˈeɪvz. lˈaɪf wʌz nˈʌθɪŋ.