text_original: To the north a huge granite bowlder, still gilded by the rays of the sun, rose majestically above the little village of Oelmce, its summit bending beneath a mass of ruined towers, as if the giant were weary of his load. When the soul is sad, it delights in melancholy scenes ; it adds to them its own gloom.
text_transcription: TO THE NORTH A HUGE GRANITE BOULDER STILL GILDED BY THE RAYS OF THE SUN ROSE MAJESTICALLY ABOVE THE LITTLE VILLAGE OF ORMO ITS SUMMIT BENDING BENEATH A MASS OF RUINED TOWERS AS IF THE GIANT WERE WEARY OF HIS LOAD WHEN THE SOUL IS SAD IT DELIGHTS IN MELANCHOLY SCENES IT ADDS TO THEM ITS OWN GLOOM
phonemes: tə ðə nˈɔːɹθ ɐ hjˈuːdʒ ɡɹˈænɪt bˈoʊldɚ, stˈɪl ɡˈɪldᵻd baɪ ðə ɹˈeɪz ʌvðə sˈʌn, ɹˈoʊz mɐdʒˈɛstɪkli əbˌʌv ðə lˈɪɾəl vˈɪlɪdʒ ʌv ˈoʊlms, ɪts sˈʌmɪt bˈɛndɪŋ bᵻnˌiːθ ɐ mˈæs ʌv ɹˈuːɪnd tˈaʊɚz, æz ɪf ðə dʒˈaɪənt wɜː wˈɪɹi ʌv hɪz lˈoʊd. wˌɛn ðə sˈoʊl ɪz sˈæd, ɪt dᵻlˈaɪts ɪn mˈɛləŋkˌɑːli sˈiːnz ; ɪɾ ˈædz tə ðˌɛm ɪts ˈoʊn ɡlˈuːm.