text_original: And he, let come what will of woe, Has saved the land he strove to save; No Cossack hordes, no traitor's blow, Can quench the voice shall haunt his grave.
text_transcription: AND HE LET COME WHAT WILL OF WOE HAS SAVED THE LAND HE STROVE TO SAVE NO COSSACK HOARDS NO TRAITOR'S BLOW CAN QUENCH THE VOICE SHALL HAUNT HIS GRAVE
phonemes: ænd hiː, lˈɛt kˈʌm wʌt wɪl ʌv wˈoʊ, hɐz sˈeɪvd ðə lˈænd hiː stɹˈoʊv tə sˈeɪv; nˈoʊ kˈɑːsæk hˈɔːɹdz, nˈoʊ tɹˈeɪɾɚz blˈoʊ, kæn kwˈɛntʃ ðə vˈɔɪs ʃˌæl hˈɔːnt hɪz ɡɹˈeɪv.