text_original: Happy the man who tills his field, Content with rustic labor; Earth does to hiin her fulness yield, Hap what may to his neighbor. Well days, sound nights, oh, can there be A life more rational and free?
text_transcription: HAPPY THE MAN WHO TILLS HIS FIELD CONTENT WITH RUSTIC LABOUR EARTH DOES TO HIM HER FULLNESS YIELD HAP WHAT MAY TO HIS NEIGHBOUR WELL DAYS SOUND NIGHTS OH CAN THERE BE A LIFE MORE RATIONAL AND FREE
phonemes: hˈæpi ðə mˈæn hˌuː tˈɪlz hɪz fˈiːld, kˈɑːntɛnt wɪð ɹˈʌstɪk lˈeɪbɚ; ˈɜːθ dˈʌz tə hˈɪɪn hɜː fˈʌlnəs jˈiːld, hˈæp wʌt mˈeɪ tə hɪz nˈeɪbɚ. wˈɛl dˈeɪz, sˈaʊnd nˈaɪts, ˈoʊ, kæn ðɛɹbˈiː ɐ lˈaɪf mˈɔːɹ ɹˈæʃənəl ænd fɹˈiː?