text_original: XXIV _The Philosopher_ The grim immensities are mine, The sunlight on the brook is theirs; I drink the lees of bitter wine, Fate grants a gift to all their prayers.
text_transcription: YA THE PHILOSOPHER THE GRIM IMMENSITIES ARE MINE THE SUNLIGHT ON THE BROOK IS STAIRS I DRINK THE LEES OF BITTER WINE FATE GRANTS A GIFT TO ALL THEIR PRAYERS
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən twˈɛnti fˈɔːɹ ðə fɪlˈɑːsəfɚ ðə ɡɹˈɪm ɪmˈɛnsᵻɾiz ɑːɹ mˈaɪn, ðə sˈʌnlaɪt ɔnðə bɹˈʊk ɪz ðˈɛɹz; aɪ dɹˈɪŋk ðə lˈiːz ʌv bˈɪɾɚ wˈaɪn, fˈeɪt ɡɹˈænts ɐ ɡˈɪft tʊ ˈɔːl ðɛɹ pɹˈɛɹz.