text_original: how the wind comes out of the haven's arms to greet us, Bringing with it the song that is sung on the ancient shore ! Shipmates, furl we our sails — we have left the seas behind us, Gladly finding at last our homes and our loves once more.
text_transcription: HOW THE WIND COMES OUT OF THE HAVEN'S ARMS TO GREET US BRINGING WITH IT THE SONG THAT IS SUNG ON THE ANCIENT SHORE SHIPMATES FOR A WE ARE SAILS WE HAVE LEFT THE SEAS BEHIND US GLADLY FINDING AT LAST OUR HOMES AND OUR LOVES ONCE MORE
phonemes: hˌaʊ ðə wˈɪnd kˈʌmz ˌaʊɾəv ðə hˈeɪvənz ˈɑːɹmz tə ɡɹˈiːt ˌʌs, bɹˈɪŋɪŋ wɪð ɪt ðə sˈɔŋ ðæt ɪz sˈʌŋ ɔnðɪ ˈeɪntʃənt ʃˈɔːɹ ! ʃˈɪpmeɪts, fˈɜːl wiː ˌaʊɚ sˈeɪlz — wiː hæv lˈɛft ðə sˈiːz bᵻhˈaɪnd ˌʌs, ɡlˈædli fˈaɪndɪŋ æt lˈæst ˌaʊɚ hˈoʊmz ænd ˌaʊɚ lˈʌvz wˈʌns mˈɔːɹ.