text_original: What, then, is there hidden in the skirts of all the blossom? What is peeping from your wings, oh mother hen? 'Tis the sun who asks the question, in a lovely haste for wisdom; What a lovely haste for wisdom is in men!
text_transcription: WHAT THEN IS THERE HIDDEN IN THE SKIRTS OF ALL THE BLOSSOM WHAT IS PEEPING FROM YOUR WINGS OH MOTHER HEN TIS THE SON WHO ASKS THE QUESTION IN A LOVELY HASTE FOR WISDOM WHAT A LOVELY HASTE FOR WISDOM IS IN MAN
phonemes: wˌʌt, ðˈɛn, ɪz ðɛɹ hˈɪdən ɪnðə skˈɜːts ʌv ˈɔːl ðə blˈɔsəm? wˌʌt ɪz pˈiːpɪŋ fɹʌm jʊɹ wˈɪŋz, ˈoʊ mˈʌðɚ hˈɛn? tˈɪz ðə sˈʌn hˌuː ˈæsks ðə kwˈɛstʃən, ɪn ɐ lˈʌvli hˈeɪst fɔːɹ wˈɪzdəm; wˌʌt ɐ lˈʌvli hˈeɪst fɔːɹ wˈɪzdəm ɪz ɪn mˈɛn!