text_original: A city street that is busy and wide is ground by a thousand wheels, And a burden of traffic on its breast is all it ever feels: It is dully conscious of weight and speed and of work that never ends, But it cannot be human like Main Street, and recognise its friends.
text_transcription: A CITY STREET THAT IS BUSY AND WIDE IS GROUNDED BY A THOUSAND WHEELS AND THE BURDEN OF TRAFFIC ON ITS BREAST IS ALL IT EVER FEELS IT IS DULLY CONSCIOUS OF WEIGHT AND SPEED AND OF WORK THAT NEVER ENDS BUT IT CANNOT BE HUMAN LIKE MAIN STREET AND RECOGNIZE ITS FRIENDS
phonemes: ɐ sˈɪɾi stɹˈiːt ðæt ɪz bˈɪzi ænd wˈaɪd ɪz ɡɹˈaʊnd baɪ ɐ θˈaʊzənd wˈiːlz, ænd ɐ bˈɜːdən ʌv tɹˈæfɪk ˌɔn ɪts bɹˈɛst ɪz ˈɔːl ɪɾ ˈɛvɚ fˈiːlz: ɪɾ ɪz dˈʌli kˈɑːnʃəs ʌv wˈeɪt ænd spˈiːd ænd ʌv wˈɜːk ðæt nˈɛvɚɹ ˈɛndz, bˌʌt ɪt kænˈɑːt biː hjˈuːmən lˈaɪk mˈeɪn stɹˈiːt, ænd ɹˈɛkəɡnˌaɪz ɪts fɹˈɛndz.