text_original: Sighing were sin, and variance ill bestead ; It will be too late when you are dead ! Love me now ! Shadows hover in the distance, Cold winds are coming, green leaves must turn red. Frownest thou, my Love, at this sad insistence?
text_transcription: SIGHING WITH SIN AND VARIANCE ILL BESTEAD IT WILL BE TOO LATE WHEN YOU ARE DEAD LOVE ME NOW SHADOWS HOVER IN THE DISTANCE COLD WINDS ARE COMING GREEN LEAVES MUST TURN RED FROWNEST THOU MY LOVE AT THIS SAD INSISTENCE
phonemes: sˈaɪɪŋ wɜː sˈɪn, ænd vˈɛɹiəns ˈɪl bᵻstˈɛd ; ɪt wɪl biː tˈuː lˈeɪt wɛn juː ɑːɹ dˈɛd ! lˈʌv mˌiː nˈaʊ ! ʃˈædoʊz hˈʌvɚɹ ɪnðə dˈɪstəns, kˈoʊld wˈɪndz ɑːɹ kˈʌmɪŋ, ɡɹˈiːn lˈiːvz mˈʌst tˈɜːn ɹˈɛd. fɹˈaʊnɪst ðˈaʊ, maɪ lˈʌv, æt ðɪs sˈæd ɪnsˈɪstəns?