text_original: 90 AFTER LOVE LET there be lust between us two, my throat Is harsh with too much singing of faint songs, My lips have numbered all the flowers by rote, But you to whom but one far rose belongs May sing a better song than love's, and fill My mouth with softer words than gardens thrill.
text_transcription: AFTER LOVE LET THERE BE LUST BETWEEN US TWO MY THROAT IS HARSH WITH TOO MUCH SINGING OF FAINT SONGS MY LIPS HAVE NUMBERED ALL THE FLOWERS BY ROAD BUT YOU TO WHOM BUT ONE FAR ROSE BELONGS MAY SING A BETTER SONG THAN LOVE'S AND FILL MY MOUTH WITH SOFTER WORDS THAN GARDENS THRILL
phonemes: nˈaɪnti ˈæftɚ lˈʌv ˌɛlˌiːtˈiː ðɛɹbˈiː lˈʌst bᵻtwˌiːn ˌʌs tˈuː, maɪ θɹˈoʊt ɪz hˈɑːɹʃ wɪð tˈuː mʌtʃ sˈɪŋɪŋ ʌv fˈeɪnt sˈɔŋz, maɪ lˈɪps hæv nˈʌmbɚd ˈɔːl ðə flˈaʊɚz baɪ ɹˈoʊt, bˌʌt juː tə hˈuːm bˌʌt wˈʌn fˈɑːɹ ɹˈoʊz bᵻlˈɔŋz mˈeɪ sˈɪŋ ɐ bˈɛɾɚ sˈɔŋ ðɐn lˈʌvz, ænd fˈɪl maɪ mˈaʊθ wɪð sˈɔftɚ wˈɜːdz ðɐn ɡˈɑːɹdənz θɹˈɪl.