text_original: Billows of mist beneath are curled Like the flags of a vanquished and flying foe, (Spirits of evil may vanish so, ) As we behold from the mountain height The meeting place of the day and night, The finite, and the infinite, The top and pinnacle of the world.
text_transcription: BILLOWS OF MIST BENEATH ARE CURLED LIKE THE FLAGS OF A VANQUISHED AND FLYING FOE SPIRITS OF EVIL MAY VANISH SO AS WE BEHOLD FROM THE MOUNTAIN HEIGHT THE MEETING PLACE OF THE DAY AND NIGHT THE FINITE AND THE INFINITE THE TOP AND PINNACLE OF THE WORLD
phonemes: bˈɪloʊz ʌv mˈɪst bᵻnˌiːθ ɑːɹ kˈɜːld lˈaɪk ðə flˈæɡz əvə vˈæŋkwɪʃt ænd flˈaɪɪŋ fˈoʊ, (spˈɪɹɪts ʌv ˈiːvəl mˈeɪ vˈænɪʃ sˈoʊ, ) æz wiː bᵻhˈoʊld fɹʌmðə mˈaʊntɪn hˈaɪt ðə mˈiːɾɪŋ plˈeɪs ʌvðə dˈeɪ ænd nˈaɪt, ðə fˈaɪnaɪt, ænd ðɪ ˈɪnfɪnət, ðə tˈɑːp ænd pˈɪnəkəl ʌvðə wˈɜːld.