text_original: Kiss but then the dust from off my lips, But draw the turgid pain From my breast to your bosom, eclipse My soul again. Waste me not, I beg you, waste Not the inner night: Taste, oh taste and let me taste The core of delight.
text_transcription: KISS BUT THEN THE DUST FROM OFF MY LIPS BUT DRAW THE TURGID PAIN FROM MY BREAST TO YOUR BOSOM ECLIPSE MY SOUL AGAIN WASTE ME NOT I BEG YOU WASTE NOT THE INNER NIGHT TASTE O TASTE AND LET ME TASTE THE CORE OF DELIGHT
phonemes: kˈɪs bˌʌt ðˈɛn ðə dˈʌst fɹʌm ˈɔf maɪ lˈɪps, bˌʌt dɹˈɔː ðə tˈɜːdʒɪd pˈeɪn fɹʌm maɪ bɹˈɛst tə jʊɹ bˈʊzəm, ɪklˈɪps maɪ sˈoʊl ɐɡˈɛn. wˈeɪst mˌiː nˈɑːt, aɪ bˈɛɡ juː, wˈeɪst nˌɑːt ðɪ ˈɪnɚ nˈaɪt: tˈeɪst, ˈoʊ tˈeɪst ænd lˈɛt mˌiː tˈeɪst ðə kˈɔːɹ ʌv dᵻlˈaɪt.