text_original: How strange it would be, when the night comes again, If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain! Fainting, Freezing, Dying alone, Too wicked for prayer, too weak for my moan To be heard in the crash of the crazy town, Gone mad in its joy at the snow's coming down; To lie and to die in my terrible woe, With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow!
text_transcription: HOW STRANGE IT WOULD BE WHEN THE NIGHT COMES AGAIN IF THE SNOW AND THE ICE STRUCK MY DESPERATE BRAIN FAINTING FREEZING DYING ALONE TOO WICKED FOR PRAYER TOO WEAK FOR MY MOAN TO BE HEARD IN THE CRASH OF THE CRAZY TOWN GONE MAD IN ITS JOY AT THE SNOWS COMING DOWN TO LIE AND TO DIE IN MY TERRIBLE WOE WITH THE BED AND THE SHROUD OF THE BEAUTIFUL SNOW
phonemes: hˌaʊ stɹˈeɪndʒ ɪt wʊd bˈiː, wˌɛn ðə nˈaɪt kˈʌmz ɐɡˈɛn, ɪf ðə snˈoʊ ænd ðɪ ˈaɪs stɹˈʌk maɪ dˈɛspɚɹət bɹˈeɪn! fˈeɪntɪŋ, fɹˈiːzɪŋ, dˈaɪɪŋ ɐlˈoʊn, tˈuː wˈɪkᵻd fɔːɹ pɹˈɛɹ, tˈuː wˈiːk fɔːɹ maɪ mˈoʊn təbi hˈɜːd ɪnðə kɹˈæʃ ʌvðə kɹˈeɪzi tˈaʊn, ɡɔn mˈæd ɪn ɪts dʒˈɔɪ æt ðə snˈoʊz kˈʌmɪŋ dˈaʊn; tə lˈaɪ ænd tə dˈaɪ ɪn maɪ tˈɛɹᵻbəl wˈoʊ, wɪð ɐ bˈɛd ænd ɐ ʃɹˈaʊd ʌvðə bjˈuːɾifəl snˈoʊ!