text_original: Save for the moans and cries of the sick ones there was scarcely a sound; the sun beat fiercely down from above, the yellow dust rose in stifling clouds from beneath, and still they waited.
text_transcription: SAVE FOR THE MOANS AND CRIES OF THE SICK ONES THERE WAS SCARCELY A SOUND THE SUN BEAT FIERCELY DOWN FROM ABOVE THE YELLOW DUST ROSE IN STIFLING CLOUDS FROM BENEATH AND STILL THEY WAITED
phonemes: sˈeɪv fɚðə mˈoʊnz ænd kɹˈaɪz ʌvðə sˈɪk wˈʌnz ðɛɹwˌʌz skˈɛɹsli ɐ sˈaʊnd; ðə sˈʌn bˈiːt fˈɪɹsli dˌaʊn fɹʌm əbˈʌv, ðə jˈɛloʊ dˈʌst ɹˈoʊz ɪn stˈaɪflɪŋ klˈaʊdz fɹʌm bᵻnˈiːθ, ænd stˈɪl ðeɪ wˈeɪɾᵻd.