text_original: She recalled Carducci's lovely sonnet, "Il Bove," those exquisite lines which Giulia Provana had repeated to her as they drove along the rural roads near San Marco, and which she learned from her friend's lips before she had ever seen a printed page of the Italian's verse.
text_transcription: SHE RECALLED CARDOUCHI'S LOVELY SONNET IL BOVE THOSE EXQUISITE LINES WHICH JULIA PROVANA HAD REPEATED TO HER AS THEY DROVE ALONG THE RURAL ROADS NEAR SAN MARCO AND WHICH SHE LEARNED FROM HER FRIEND'S LIPS BEFORE SHE HAD EVER SEEN A PRINTED PAGE OF THE ITALIAN'S VERSE
phonemes: ʃiː ɹᵻkˈɔːld kɑːɹdˈuːtʃiz lˈʌvli sˈɑːnɪt, "ˈɪl bˈoʊv," ðoʊz ɛkskwˈɪsɪt lˈaɪnz wˌɪtʃ dʒɪjˈuːliə pɹəvˈɑːnə hæd ɹᵻpˈiːɾᵻd tə hɜːɹ æz ðeɪ dɹˈoʊv ɐlˈɔŋ ðə ɹˈʊɹɹəl ɹˈoʊdz nˌɪɹ sˌæn mˈɑːɹkoʊ, ænd wˌɪtʃ ʃiː lˈɜːnd fɹʌm hɜː fɹˈɛndz lˈɪps bᵻfˌɔːɹ ʃiː hæd ˈɛvɚ sˈiːn ɐ pɹˈɪntᵻd pˈeɪdʒ ʌvðɪ ɪtˈæliənz vˈɜːs.