Guillén’s genius was in blending European poetic forms (like the sonnet) with African rhythms and vernacular speech. "El apellido" belongs to his 1964 collection Tengo ("I Have"), a book written after the Cuban Revolution. In this poem, Guillén tackles a deeply personal yet collective wound: the loss of African ancestry through the brutal erasure of slavery.
When exploring the rich landscape of Afro-Cuban poetry, one name rises above the rest: Nicolás Guillén . A central figure in the négritude movement and a master of son montuno poetry, Guillén used his pen to fight racism, celebrate African heritage, and critique social injustice. Among his most powerful and frequently studied works is the poem "El apellido" (translated into English as "The Last Name" or "The Surname").
For students, scholars, and poetry lovers searching for this article provides a complete, authoritative guide. You will find the original Spanish text, a precise English translation, a line-by-line breakdown, and an analysis of the poem’s historical and cultural significance. Part 1: The Historical Context – Why "El Apellido" Matters Before diving into the English translation of "El apellido," we must understand the poet. Nicolás Guillén (1902–1989) was born in Camagüey, Cuba, a nation with a massive population of African descent. Despite Cuba’s mixed-race identity, systemic racism pushed Black Cubans to the margins. el apellido nicolas guillen english translation
Guillén knows his Spanish surname (given to his ancestors by colonizers), but he does not know his true African surname. This absence becomes a symbol of cultural genocide. Part 2: The Original Spanish Text – "El Apellido" by Nicolás Guillén Below is the complete original text of El apellido . Read it aloud to appreciate its rhythmic intensity. EL APELLIDO por Nicolás Guillén
¿Mi apellido? Me lo dieron los españoles. (Ellos fueron los primeros que me lo dieron.) Pero yo no se lo pido a nadie, ni se lo quiero a nadie. Mi apellido es mío, mío, mío; pero no me lo dieron mis abuelos sino los conquistadores. Lo tengo como quien tiene una cicatriz. Y si alguien me pregunta por mi apellido, yo le digo: —Tengo un apellido, pero no sé de dónde viene. ¿Será de algún negro de mi sangre? ¿Será de algún congo, algún bantú? No sé. Yo solo sé que me apellido ahora como los que me robaron la patria. ¿Mi apellido? ¿Mi verdadero apellido? ¿Aquél que me quitó el amo junto con la cadena y el látigo? Lo perdí. Lo perdí como se pierde un anillo en el mar. Lo perdí como se pierde la voz. Lo perdí como se pierde la tierra. Lo perdí. ¡Ay, mi apellido perdido, mi apellido robado por el verdugo, mi apellido! ¿Volverá? ¿Volverá un día? ¿Volverá de la raíz de los árboles caídos? ¿Volverá de la entraña de los minerales? ¿Volverá del fondo de los ríos? ¿Volverá de la noche? ¿Volverá del silencio? ¿Volverá de la nada? ¿Volverá de este mismo odio que me late y que me quema las entrañas? ¡Ay, mi apellido! ¡Mi apellido! The following is a faithful English translation of El Apellido by Nicolás Guillén, balancing literal accuracy with poetic flow. THE LAST NAME by Nicolás Guillén (Translated for this article) Guillén’s genius was in blending European poetic forms
My last name? The Spaniards gave it to me. (They were the first ones to give it to me.) But I don’t ask it of anyone, nor do I owe it to anyone. My last name is mine, mine, mine; but my grandparents did not give it to me — only the conquerors did. I carry it like someone carries a scar. And if anyone asks me for my last name, I tell them: — I have a last name, but I don’t know where it comes from. Could it be from some Black man of my blood? Could it be from some Congo, some Bantu? I don’t know. I only know that I am now named like those who stole my homeland from me. My last name? My true last name? The one the master took from me along with the chain and the whip? I lost it. I lost it like a ring lost in the sea. I lost it like a voice is lost. I lost it like the land is lost. I lost it. Oh, my lost last name, my last name stolen by the executioner, my last name! Will it return? Will it return one day? Will it return from the root of fallen trees? Will it return from the entrails of minerals? Will it return from the depths of rivers? Will it return from the night? Will it return from silence? Will it return from nothingness? Will it return from this very hatred that beats inside me and burns my guts? Oh, my last name! My last name! 1. The Opening Confrontation “¿Mi apellido? / Me lo dieron los españoles.” The poem begins with a question answered immediately. Guillén does not celebrate his surname; he unmasks it as a foreign imposition. The English translation preserves the blunt, almost accusatory tone. 2. Ownership vs. Origin “My last name is mine, mine, mine; / but my grandparents did not give it to me — / only the conquerors did.” Notice the repetition of “mine.” He claims legal ownership of the name (he uses it daily), but he rejects its legitimacy. The translation uses “conquerors” instead of “Spaniards” here to emphasize violence, not nationality. 3. The Scar Metaphor “I carry it / like someone carries a scar.” This is the poem’s most famous image. A scar is permanent, ugly, and evidence of a wound. The English keeps the simile intact because it is culturally universal. 4. The Guessing Game of Ancestry “Could it be from some Congo, some Bantu?” Guillén guesses at African ethnicities because he has no records. The translation capitalizes “Black” and keeps “Congo” and “Bantu” as proper nouns – these were real peoples enslaved in Cuba. 5. The Repetition of “Perder” (To Lose) “Lo perdí” appears four times. The English translator must choose: “I lost it” (neutral) vs. “I have lost it” (present perfect). Using the simple past (“I lost it”) mirrors the Spanish finality and matches the following similes. 6. The Litany of Return “Will it return from the root of fallen trees? / ...from nothingness?” The 10-line question sequence builds a ritualistic, almost religious longing. In English, the repeated “Will it return from…” becomes an incantation. The final line introduces hatred as a possible womb – a powerful, unresolved ending. Part 5: Key Themes for English-Speaking Readers If you found this article searching for “el apellido nicolas guillen english translation,” you likely need to write an essay or prepare a lecture. Here are the essential themes to analyze: 1. The Surname as Colonial Violence Guillén compares his last name to a scar and a stolen ring. For English readers, think of Native American renaming or African slaves given English/Portuguese names. The poem universalizes the trauma of forced naming. 2. The Lost Ancestral Name as Cultural Genocide Not knowing his African surname means not knowing his lineage, his tribe, his history. The poem is an elegy for a specific loss but also a metaphor for the destruction of African family structures under slavery. 3. The Search for Identity in the Present Despite not knowing his “true” name, Guillén does not ask for a new one. He interrogates the name he has. This is not a victim’s poem – it is an accuser’s poem. He turns the Spanish name into evidence of a crime. 4. Hatred as a Source of Rebirth The final stanza is shocking: “Will it return from this very hatred that beats inside me?” Unlike Western poetry that often sees hatred as corrupting, Guillén suggests that righteous anger might regenerate lost memory. This is a distinctly Afro-Cuban, revolutionary perspective. Part 6: Comparing Published English Translations If you are looking for a published version of “el apellido” in English , note that several exist. The most respected are by Roberto Márquez (in The Great Zoo / El gran zoo ) and David Frye . Márquez tends to keep line breaks intact, while Frye prioritizes natural English syntax. The translation above is original to this article but follows the Márquez school of thought: respect the original’s breath and repetition.
If you searched for “el apellido nicolas guillen english translation,” you now have a complete, line-by-line translation, cultural context, literary analysis, and pedagogical tools. Share this article, cite it properly, and let Guillén’s lost surname echo in your own reflections on identity, race, and memory. Did you find this translation helpful? For more Afro-Caribbean poetry in English, explore our translations of Nancy Morejón’s “Mujer negra” and Luis Palés Matos’s “Canción festiva.” When exploring the rich landscape of Afro-Cuban poetry,
Always credit the translator. If you use this article’s translation, cite as “Anonymous translation, 2024” or seek permission for academic publication. Part 7: How This Poem Relates to Guillén’s Other Works El apellido is a companion poem to others in the Tengo collection, such as Tengo (I Have), where Guillén lists post-Revolution gains (a job, a school, a vote). But El apellido reminds us that even after revolution, some losses cannot be restored.