text_original: As I passed the rock, its dark shade, with the gloom in which the tall trees inclosed me, gave a new colour to my emotions. A pensive, but not a painful, tenderness stole on me. My breast began to heave, my lip to tremble: and, having reached the oak, I threw myself on the ground and sobbed. Still I felt no unhappiness.
text_transcription: AS I PASSED THE ROCK ITS DARK SHADE WITH THE GLOOM IN WHICH THE TALL TREES ENCLOSED ME GAVE A NEW COLOR TO MY EMOTIONS A PENSIVE BUT NOT A PAINFUL TENDERNESS STOLE ON ME MY BREAST BEGAN TO HEAVE MY LIP TO TREMBLE AND HAVING REACHED THE OAK I THREW MYSELF ON THE GROUND AND SOBBED STILL I FELT NO UNHAPPINESS
phonemes: æz aɪ pˈæst ðə ɹˈɑːk, ɪts dˈɑːɹk ʃˈeɪd, wɪððə ɡlˈuːm ɪnwˌɪtʃ ðə tˈɔːl tɹˈiːz ɪŋklˈoʊzd mˌiː, ɡˈeɪv ɐ nˈuː kˈʌlɚ tə maɪ ɪmˈoʊʃənz. ɐ pˈɛnsɪv, bˌʌt nˌɑːɾə pˈeɪnfəl, tˈɛndɚnəs stˈoʊl ˈɔn mˌiː. maɪ bɹˈɛst bɪɡˈæn tə hˈiːv, maɪ lˈɪp tə tɹˈɛmbəl: ænd, hˌævɪŋ ɹˈiːtʃt ðɪ ˈoʊk, aɪ θɹˈuː maɪsˈɛlf ɔnðə ɡɹˈaʊnd ænd sˈɑːbd. stˈɪl aɪ fˈɛlt nˈoʊ ʌnhˈæpɪnəs.