text_original: Something is lacking from the wistful bow rs, And I have lost that which I never had. The sea cries, and the heavens and sea are sad, And Love goes desolate, yet is not ours.
text_transcription: SOMETHING IS LACKING FROM THE WISTFUL BOWERS AND I HAVE LOST THAT WHICH I NEVER HAD THE SEA CRIES AND THE HEAVENS AND SEA ARE SAD AND LOVE GOES DESOLATE YET IS NOT OURS
phonemes: sˈʌmθɪŋ ɪz lˈækɪŋ fɹʌmðə wˈɪstfəl bˈoʊ ˌɑːɹɹˈɛs, ænd aɪ hæv lˈɔst ðæt wˌɪtʃ aɪ nˈɛvɚ hˌæd. ðə sˈiː kɹˈaɪz, ænd ðə hˈɛvənz ænd sˈiː ɑːɹ sˈæd, ænd lˈʌv ɡoʊz dˈɛsələt, jˈɛt ɪz nˌɑːt aʊɚz.