text_original: Though all the wine of life be lost, Try well the red grape's hue. Holy the soul that cannot taste The false love for the true. And blessed aye the fainting heart For such a thirst shall be   Yet never a word they spoke, and looked Upon the bitter sea.
text_transcription: THOUGH ALL THE WINE OF LIFE BE LOST TRY WELL THE RED GRAPES YOU HOLY THE SOUL THAT CANNOT TASTE THE FALSE LOVE FOR THE TRUE AND BLESSED A THE FAINTING HEART FOR SUCH A THIRST SHALL BE YET NEVER A WORD THEY SPOKE AND LOOKED UPON THE BITTER SEA
phonemes: ðˌoʊ ˈɔːl ðə wˈaɪn ʌv lˈaɪf biː lˈɔst, tɹˈaɪ wˈɛl ðə ɹˈɛd ɡɹˈeɪpz hjˈuː. hˈoʊli ðə sˈoʊl ðæt kænˈɑːt tˈeɪst ðə fˈɔls lˈʌv fɚðə tɹˈuː. ænd blˈɛst ˈaɪ ðə fˈeɪntɪŋ hˈɑːɹt fɔːɹ sˈʌtʃ ɐ θˈɜːst ʃˌæl biː jˈɛt nˈɛvɚɹ ɐ wˈɜːd ðeɪ spˈoʊk, ænd lˈʊkt əpˌɑːn ðə bˈɪɾɚ sˈiː.