text_original: You think that you are free and have given over your sighing. You think that from my coldness your love has flown away: But mine are the hands you shall dream that your own are holding, And mine is the face you shall look for when you are dying.
text_transcription: YOU THINK THAT YOU ARE FREE AND HAVE GIVEN OVER YOUR SIGHING YOU THINK THAT FOR MY COLDNESS YOUR LOVE HAS FLOWN AWAY BUT MINE ARE THE HANDS YOU SHALL DREAM THAT YOUR OWN ARE HOLDING AND MINE IS THE FACE YOU SHALL LOOK FOR WHEN YOU ARE DYING
phonemes: juː θˈɪŋk ðæt juː ɑːɹ fɹˈiː ænd hæv ɡˈɪvən ˌoʊvɚ jʊɹ sˈaɪɪŋ. juː θˈɪŋk ðæt fɹʌm maɪ kˈoʊldnəs jʊɹ lˈʌv hɐz flˈoʊn ɐwˈeɪ: bˌʌt mˈaɪn ɑːɹ ðə hˈændz juː ʃˌæl dɹˈiːm ðæt jʊɹ ˈoʊn ɑːɹ hˈoʊldɪŋ, ænd mˈaɪn ɪz ðə fˈeɪs juː ʃˌæl lˈʊk fɔːɹ wɛn juː ɑːɹ dˈaɪɪŋ.