ORIGINAL TEXT:
It was a pleasure to burn.
It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his symbolic helmet numbered 451 on his stolid head, and his eyes all orange flame with the thought of what came next, he flicked the igniter and the house jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and yellow and black. He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above all, like the old joke, to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace, while the flapping pigeon-wingedbooks died on the porch and lawn of the house. While the books went up in sparkling whirls and blew away on a wind turned dark with burning.
(from Fahrenheit 451)
TRANSCRIPTION:
/ɪt wəz ə ˈplɛʒə tə bɜːn/
/ɪt wəz ə ˈspɛʃəl ˈplɛʒə tə siː θɪŋz ˈiːtn / tə siː θɪŋz ˈblækənd ənd ʧeɪnʤd/
/ wɪð ðə brɑːs ˈnɒzl ɪn ɪz fɪsts / wɪð ðɪs greɪt ˈpaɪθənˈspɪtɪŋ ɪts ˈvɛnəməs ˈkɛrəsiːn əpən ðə wɜːld / ðə blʌd ˈpaʊndɪd ɪn ɪz hɛd / ənd ɪz hændz wə ðə hændz əv səm əˈmeɪzɪŋkən ‘dʌktə ‘pleɪɪŋˈɔ: ðǝ ‘sɪmfəniz əv ˈbleɪzɪŋ ənd ˈbɜːnɪŋ tə brɪŋ daʊn ðə ˈtætəz ənd ˈʧɑːkəʊl rʊɪnz əv ˈhɪstəri /
/wɪð ɪz sɪ’bɒlɪk ˈhɛlmɪt ˈnʌmbəd 451 ɒn ɪz ˈstɒlɪd hɛd / ənd ɪz aɪz ɔːl ˈɒrɪnʤ fleɪm wɪð ðə θɔːt əv wɒt keɪm nɛkst / hi flɪkt ði ɪg’naɪtər ənd ðə haʊs ʤʌmpt ʌp ɪn ə ˈgɔːʤɪŋ ˈfaɪə ðət bɜːnd ði ˈiːvnɪŋ skaɪ rɛd ənd ˈjɛləʊ ənd blæk /
/ hi strəʊd ɪn ə swɔːm əvˈfaɪəflaɪz /
/ hi ˈwɒntɪd əˈbʌv ɔːl / laɪk ði əʊld ʤəʊk / tə ʃʌv ə ˌmɑːʃˈmæləʊ ɒn ə stɪk ɪn ðə ˈfɜːnɪs / waɪl ðə ˈflæpɪŋ ˈpɪʤɪnwɪŋdbʊks daɪd ɒn ðə pɔːʧ ənd lɔːn əv ðə haʊs /
/ waɪl ðə bʊks wɛnt ʌp ɪn ˈspɑːklɪŋ wɜːlz ənd bluː əˈweɪ ɒn ə wɪnd tɜːnd dɑːk wɪðˈbɜːnɪŋ /
RECORDING: