One more from Gerrit Komrij

NIEUWE KERKSTRAAT

The street is silent. You like walking there.

It seems unlived in, though, you ascertain.

‘No bread today’ a note says. You could swear

You’re in the eye of some great hurricane.

You whistle all the Marseillaise much louder.

Catch cholera. Catch galloping consumption.

Level with Top-Class Launderer ‘Van Buiten’

You glimpse a shuffling tramp all of a sudden.

‘The end is nigh,’ he cries. His babbles worsen.

He sputters plegm. He really is a baddun.

You well know who it is. It’s you in person.

Though you pretend you don’t know him from Adam.