text_original: What has become of our cousinship; our memory of childish pleasures, the sea, the woods, the heather; the pony that ran away with you, while I stood with my blood frozen, telling myself, 'If he kills her I shall throw myself over the cliff'?
text_transcription: WHAT HAS BECOME OF OUR COUSINSHIP OUR MEMORY OF CHILDISH PLEASURES THE SEA THE WOODS THE HEATHER THE PONY THAT RAN AWAY WITH YOU WHILE I STOOD WITH MY BLOOD FROZEN TELLING MYSELF IF HE KILLS HER I SHALL THROW MYSELF OVER THE CLIFF
phonemes: wˌʌt hɐz bɪkˌʌm ʌv ˌaʊɚ kˈʌzənʃˌɪp; ˌaʊɚ mˈɛmɚɹi ʌv tʃˈaɪldɪʃ plˈɛʒɚz, ðə sˈiː, ðə wˈʊdz, ðə hˈɛðɚ; ðə pˈoʊni ðæt ɹˈæn ɐwˈeɪ wɪð juː, wˌaɪl aɪ stˈʊd wɪð maɪ blˈʌd fɹˈoʊzən, tˈɛlɪŋ maɪsˈɛlf, ɪf hiː kˈɪlz hɜːɹ aɪʃˌɐl θɹˈoʊ maɪsˈɛlf ˌoʊvɚ ðə klˈɪf?