text_original: Like madmen now we turned our prow North, towards an ocean weird Of Northern Lights and icy blasts; And for ten moons with reeling masts And leaking hold we steered. Then black as blood through streaming scud Land loomed above our boom, A land of iron gulfs and crags And cataracts, like wind tossed rags, And caverns lost in gloom.
text_transcription: LIKE MADMEN NOW WE TURNED OUR PROW NORTH TOWARDS AN OCEAN WEIRD OF NORTHERN LIGHTS AND ICY BLASTS AND FOR TEN MOONS WITH READING MASTS AND LEAKING HOLD WE STEERED THEN BLACK AS BLOOD THROUGH STREAMING SCUD LAND LOOMED ABOVE OUR BOOM A LAND OF IRON GULFS AND CRAGS AND CATARACTS LIKE WIND TOSSED RAGS AND CAVERNS LOST IN GLOOM
phonemes: lˈaɪk mˈædmɛn nˈaʊ wiː tˈɜːnd ˌaʊɚ pɹˈaʊ nˈɔːɹθ, təwˈɔːɹdz ɐn ˈoʊʃən wˈɪɹd ʌv nˈɔːɹðɚn lˈaɪts ænd ˈaɪsi blˈæsts; ænd fɔːɹ tˈɛn mˈuːnz wɪð ɹˈiːlɪŋ mˈæsts ænd lˈiːkɪŋ hˈoʊld wiː stˈɪɹd. ðˈɛn blˈæk æz blˈʌd θɹuː stɹˈiːmɪŋ skˈʌd lˈænd lˈuːmd əbˌʌv ˌaʊɚ bˈuːm, ɐ lˈænd ʌv ˈaɪɚn ɡˈʌlfs ænd kɹˈæɡz ænd kˈæɾɐɹˌækts, lˈaɪk wˈɪnd tˈɔst ɹˈæɡz, ænd kˈævɚnz lˈɔst ɪn ɡlˈuːm.