On the March Among the faces of the forest there is Death, with its walkie-talkies, gargling, jumping and praying, shaking the nocturnal mystery of the night. It looks like your eyes when they are closed, like your mouth that, sleeping, murmurs, like my absence so near to you, like a bird that sang and then fell dead. All the jungle has a savage power and man, profaning its green statue, adds to it a mournful angle, cold and mortal.    Castellano Français      No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher or, in case of photocopyng or other reprographic copying, a licence from Canadian Reprography Collective (Cancopy), 1 Yonge Street, Suite 1900 Toronto, ON M5E 1E5 Canadá. Ph 800-893-5777 / (416)868-1620 /Fax:(416) 868-1621. -- U.S. requests should be sent to Copyright Clearance Center, Inc. 222 Rosewood Drive Danvers, MA 01923 USA. Ph. 978-750-8400 / Fax 978-750-4470