text_original: This is the lash the lords of Europe hold To scourge their peoples, and the battle takes Frontiers of flame and thunder, and Earth makes A melancholy music, bleakly rolled On fateful heavens menacing and cold, Where Shadows gather and the Red Star shakes. The vulture s beak is whetted for the dove.
text_transcription: THIS IS THE LASH THE LORDS OF EUROPE HOLD TO SCORCH THEIR PEOPLES AND THE BATTLE TAKES FRONTIERS OF FLAME AND THUNDER AND EARTH MAKES A MELANCHOLY MUSIC BLEAKLY ROLLED ON FATEFUL HEAVENS MENACING AND COLD WHERE SHADOWS GATHER AND THE RED STAR SHAKES THE VULTURE SPEAK IS WETTED FOR THE DOVE
phonemes: ðɪs ɪz ðə lˈæʃ ðə lˈɔːɹdz ʌv jˈʊɹɹəp hˈoʊld tə skˈɜːdʒ ðɛɹ pˈiːpəlz, ænd ðə bˈæɾəl tˈeɪks fɹʌntˈɪɹz ʌv flˈeɪm ænd θˈʌndɚ, ænd ˈɜːθ mˌeɪks ɐ mˈɛləŋkˌɑːli mjˈuːzɪk, blˈiːkli ɹˈoʊld ˌɔn fˈeɪtfəl hˈɛvənz mˈɛnɪsɪŋ ænd kˈoʊld, wˌɛɹ ʃˈædoʊz ɡˈæðɚ ænd ðə ɹˈɛd stˈɑːɹ ʃˈeɪks. ðə vˈʌltʃɚɹ ˈɛs bˈiːk ɪz wˈɛɾᵻd fɚðə dˈʌv.