text_original: _ Of some strange metal, thread by thread, To stand out from my lady's head, Not moving much to tangle me. _Beata mea Domina!_ Beneath her brows the lids fall slow. The lashes a clear shadow throw Where I would wish my lips to be.
text_transcription: OF SOME STRANGE METAL THREAD BY THREAD TO STAND OUT FROM MY LADY'S HEAD NOT MOVING MUCH TO TANGLE ME BEAT A MEA DOMINA BENEATH HER BROWS THE LIDS FALL SLOW THE LASHES A CLEAR SHADOW THROW WHERE I WOULD WISH MY LIPS TO BE
phonemes: ʌv sˌʌm stɹˈeɪndʒ mˈɛɾəl, θɹˈɛd baɪ θɹˈɛd, tə stˈænd ˈaʊt fɹʌm maɪ lˈeɪdiz hˈɛd, nˌɑːt mˈuːvɪŋ mˈʌtʃ tə tˈæŋɡəl mˌiː. bˈiːɾə mˈiː dˈɑːmɪnə!bᵻnˌiːθ hɜː bɹˈaʊz ðə lˈɪdz fˈɔːl slˈoʊ. ðə lˈæʃᵻz ɐ klˈɪɹ ʃˈædoʊ θɹˈoʊ wˌɛɹ aɪ wʊd wˈɪʃ maɪ lˈɪps tə bˈiː.