text_original: And still, when the merry date season is burning, And calls to the palm grove the young and the old, The happiest there, from their pastime returning At sunset, will weep when thy story is told. The young village maid, when with flowers she dresses Her dark flowing hair for some festival day, Will think of thy fate till, neglecting her tresses, She mournfully turns from the mirror away.
text_transcription: AND STILL WHEN THE MERRY DATE SEASON IS BURNING AND CALLS TO THE PALM GROVE THE YOUNG AND THE OLD THE HAPPIEST THERE FROM THEIR PASTIME RETURNING AT SUNSET WILL WEEP WHEN THY STORY IS TOLD THE YOUNG VILLAGE MAID WHEN WITH FLOWERS SHE DRESSES HER DARK FLOWING HAIR FOR SOME FESTIVAL DAY WILL THINK OF THY FATE TILL NEGLECTING HER TRESSES SHE MOURNFULLY TURNS FROM THE MIRROR AWAY
phonemes: ænd stˈɪl, wˌɛn ðə mˈɛɹi dˈeɪt sˈiːzən ɪz bˈɜːnɪŋ, ænd kˈɔːlz tə ðə pˈɑːm ɡɹˈoʊv ðə jˈʌŋ ænd ðɪ ˈoʊld, ðə hˈæpɪɪst ðˈɛɹ, fɹʌm ðɛɹ pˈæstaɪm ɹᵻtˈɜːnɪŋ æt sˈʌnsɛt, wɪl wˈiːp wɛn ðˌaɪ stˈɔːɹi ɪz tˈoʊld. ðə jˈʌŋ vˈɪlɪdʒ mˈeɪd, wˌɛn wɪð flˈaʊɚz ʃiː dɹˈɛsᵻz hɜː dˈɑːɹk flˈoʊɪŋ hˈɛɹ fɔːɹ sˌʌm fˈɛstɪvəl dˈeɪ, wɪl θˈɪŋk ʌv ðˌaɪ fˈeɪt tˈɪl, nᵻɡlˈɛktɪŋ hɜː tɹˈɛsᵻz, ʃiː mˈɔːɹnfəli tˈɜːnz fɹʌmðə mˈɪɹɚɹ ɐwˈeɪ.