強迫症進行曲 - 許廷鏗 Übersetzung ins Englische

強迫症進行曲

循循提步排練早操 左右隨拍子貼合得很美好
走甩半秒鐘從頭又惡補 規律完美因我為執著而自豪

公整的步操就如我 一生之中將所有事 拿捏到沒瑕疵找得到
卻沒完沒了的自行評核 然後再挑剔那皮毛 一手推冧摧毀再重做
一輩子也追求無上質素 標淮偏卻自行無限地推高
逼迫到邁向窮途 偏偏卻為此驕傲 這叫藝術還是病得離譜
為何 越注神人越急 想貼隨拍子更著緊偏更越甩
錯漏明明沒有人能目測 心眼又看出我步操甩掉了半拍
手洗得極幹淨仍覺得污糟 腰啪得幾正總有彎度
漂白國度裡面抽出絲毫 稍有偏差即刻響起警號 點解通通都未夠好

難道每當強迫症侵襲全沒招架 反覆糾正為何仍存在偏差
衣衫貼服潔白而無瑕 污積卻在腦下垂萌芽
好想一把火 燒毀我現實 充斥眼內的缺憾嗎
中了怨咒這麼樣 (跳掣跳到快缺氧) 腦裡有怪異能量 (無人能停頓遐想)
嫌尖變做擅長 攪得周身騷痕 發作了 哪裡有救藥
巴不得將規格踢爛再火化 撕開衫鈕不規則的過活好嗎
肆意玩耍 肆意塗鴉 只可惜瘋癲一秒後 換更多牽掛

明瞭沒事情能完美 偏任由潔癖叫自己逼到死
這種宿命叫我四肢完全麻痺 一世如活死人般步操會否才算合理

Obsessive-Compulsive Marching Song

Step by step, rehearsing the morning drill, left and right in rhythm, it fits so well
Half a second off, I start over again, perfection in order, because I'm proud of my meticulousness

My marching is just as proper, in my life I manage everything, finding every flaw
But I keep self-assessing endlessly, then nitpicking at the details, tearing it all down and starting over
I've been pursuing the highest quality my whole life, my standards are biased and I keep raising them
Pushing myself to the brink, but I'm strangely proud of it, is this art or just plain madness?
Why, the more I focus, the more anxious I get, wanting to follow the rhythm but becoming even more off-beat?
No one can see the mistakes, but my mind's eye sees that I'm half a beat off
My hands are washed so clean but I still feel dirty, my waist is as straight as can be but there's always a curve
In a world of white, I seek out the slightest flaw, any deviation and the alarm bells go off, why is nothing ever good enough?

Could it be that when OCD strikes, there's no way to resist? I correct myself over and over, but why are there still flaws?
My clothes are spotless and white, but the dirt is sprouting in my subconscious
I just want to set fire to my reality, to burn away the flaws that fill my eyes
I'm under a curse, I'm running out of oxygen, there's a strange energy in my mind that won't let me stop thinking
My perfectionism has become an obsession, making me itch all over, it's acting up, is there any cure?
I wish I could smash my standards and burn them, tear open my shirt buttons and live irregularly
Play freely, scribble freely, but sadly, after a second of madness, I'm left with even more worries

I know that nothing can be perfect, but I let my潔癖 drive me to the point of death
This fate has paralyzed me, will I only be at peace when I march like a living dead man?