Exploring Nicolás Guillén’s "El Apellido" (The Surname) Nicolás Guillén , the National Poet of Cuba, published El Apellido (translated as "The Surname" "My Last Name"
) in 1958. The poem is a powerful exploration of identity, Afro-Cuban heritage, and the lasting impact of colonialism. Summary and Core Themes
In the poem, Guillén interrogates his own last name, recognizing it as a Spanish inheritance that conceals his African roots. He questions why he carries a name from the colonizer rather than his ancestral African lineage. Identity and Dislocation
: The speaker reflects on how his true family name was lost during the transatlantic slave trade. Transculturation
: Guillén uses his own mixed heritage as a metaphor for the broader Cuban identity—a blend of Spanish and African influences. The African Diaspora : The poem lists various African ethnic groups like the , asking which one is his true origin. English Translations The most widely recognized English translation is by Roberto Márquez My Last Name / El Apellido el apellido nicolas guillen english translation
, published as a bilingual edition. This translation is often included in anthologies of his work, such as Man-making Words: Selected Poems of Nicolás Guillén
Other notable collections containing translations of his work include:
In Cuba, café con leche is a common breakfast drink. However, Guillén famously uses "coffee with milk" as a metaphor for racial mixing (white milk + black coffee). Here, the theft of his surname haunts even the most mundane, mixed-race daily rituals.
When diving into the rich waters of Afro-Cuban poetry, one name stands as a titan: Nicolás Guillén. A central figure of the Negrismo movement, Guillén used sonorous rhythms, onomatopoeia, and sharp social critique to give a voice to the African diaspora in the Caribbean. Unpacking "El Apellido" by Nicolás Guillén: A Complete
Among his most referenced and studied works is the poem "El apellido" (translated as "The Last Name" or "The Surname"). For students, scholars, and poetry lovers searching for the "el apellido nicolas guillen english translation," this article provides a complete, side-by-side translation, a breakdown of its historical context, and an analysis of why this poem remains a cornerstone of post-colonial literature.
“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.
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. yo le digo: —Tengo un apellido
The poem opens as a dialogue. The speaker is confronting you—the reader, the white establishment, or the Spanish descendant who takes surnames for granted. By the end, the question turns inward.
Stylistically, Guillén uses repetition not as decoration, but as a musical, almost drum-like incantation. The chorus "Que me roben el apellido" functions like a bolero or a son refrain. It forces the reader to sit with the pain until the phrase becomes unbearable.
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!