text_original: 66 MUTINY MUTINY ^TMIE heart of the world beats slow, And the pulse of life is low, And the shrunk earth powerless lies, and prone in the clutches of the frost ; And the short, short days go by, And the sun in the wintry sky Shoots a cold ray into the noon as if its heat were lost.
text_transcription: BY SONYA MUTINY THE HEART OF THE WORLD BEATS SLOW AND THE PULSE OF LIFE IS LOW AND THE SHRUNK EARTH POWERLESS LIES AND PRONE IN THE CLUTCHES OF THE FROST AND THE SHORT SHORT DAYS GO BY AND THE SUN IN THE WINTRY SKY SHOOTS A COLD RAY INTO THE NOON AS IF ITS HEAT WERE LOST
phonemes: sˈɪksti sˈɪks mjˈuːtɪni mjˈuːtɪni tˈiːmˈaɪ hˈɑːɹt ʌvðə wˈɜːld bˈiːts slˈoʊ, ænd ðə pˈʌls ʌv lˈaɪf ɪz lˈoʊ, ænd ðə ʃɹˈʌŋk ˈɜːθ pˈaʊɚləs lˈaɪz, ænd pɹˈoʊn ɪnðə klˈʌtʃᵻz ʌvðə fɹˈɔst ; ænd ðə ʃˈɔːɹt, ʃˈɔːɹt dˈeɪz ɡˌoʊ bˈaɪ, ænd ðə sˈʌn ɪnðə wˈɪntɹi skˈaɪ ʃˈuːts ɐ kˈoʊld ɹˈeɪ ˌɪntʊ ðə nˈuːn æz ɪf ɪts hˈiːt wɜː lˈɔst.