nˈɪɹɚɹ ænd nˈɪɹɚ, fɹˈɛndliɚ, lˈaɪk ɐ hˈoʊmkʌmɪŋ, sˈaʊndz ðə θˈʌd ʌvðə wˈeɪvz; nˈaʊ, lˈaɪk ɐ θˈʌndɚɹɪŋ pˈʌls, ðeɪ bˈiːt ɪn maɪ hˈɛd, nˈaʊ ðeɪ bˈiːt ˌoʊvɚ maɪ sˈoʊl, ɹˈæpɪŋ ɪt ɹˈaʊnd, kənsˈuːmɪŋ ɪt, wˌaɪl æt ðə sˈeɪm tˈaɪm maɪ sˈoʊl flˈoʊts ˌaʊɾəv mˌiː æz ɐ blˈuː wˈeɪst ʌv wˈɔːɾɚz.
Nearer and nearer, friendlier, like a homecoming, sounds the thud of the waves; now, like a thundering pulse, they beat in my head, now they beat over my soul, wrapping it round, consuming it, while at the same time my soul floats out of me as a blue waste of waters.