By saying they lent him the surname, Guillén suggests that the Spanish last name is not truly his. It is a colonial contract. The poem’s tension comes from the fact that he cannot return it—he has nowhere to go, because the African surname is dead.
Me dijeron mi abuelo que era un negro de Guinea, en su camino... Y que ese negro al fin llevó en su pecho el llanto derretido... ¡Mi abuelo!
English readers who cannot access the Spanish original demand translations that preserve the of Guillén. While no translation is perfect, the version provided above aims to give the English speaker the same gut-punch that a Cuban reader gets from the original. El Apellido Nicolas Guillen English Translation
📍 "El Apellido" is more than a poem; it is a linguistic reclamation of a stolen past. To help you dive deeper into Guillén's work:
The ending of "El Apellido" is radical. "Que mi nombre no sea nada" (let my name be nothing). In English, this sounds nihilistic. In the context of Guillén’s work, it is revolutionary. He is rejecting the colonial naming system entirely. Without the Spanish surname, and without the lost African surname, he chooses over a lie. By saying they lent him the surname, Guillén
Guillén utilized a technique known as "mestizaje" (mixing) in his language. He incorporated the slang, the cadence, and the onomatopoeia of the Havana streets. Words like óngongo , sóngoro , and mayombero do not have direct English dictionary definitions. They are rhythmic devices—sound effects that mimic the beat of a drum.
While Guillén acknowledges his Spanish roots, he insists on the visibility of his African blood. Understanding the Language and Rhythm Me dijeron mi abuelo que era un negro
Conveying the deep-seated anger and longing inherent in the Spanish text. Why the English Translation Matters Today
A critical point in reviews of English translations, such as the bilingual edition from Peepal Tree Press , is the difficulty of preserving the son rhythm . This is a musical, Afro-Cuban poetic form that Guillén pioneered. While translations like those by Salvador Ortiz-Carboneres are praised for capturing the "incantatory rhythms," some scholars from UCF STARS argue that the percussive, linguistic impact is inherently diminished when moved into English.
The poet refuses to choose one side. He is not purely African (because he speaks Spanish) nor purely Spanish (because of his skin and heritage). He is the synthesis of colonial violence. The English words "pain" and "weeping" are softer than the Spanish; in Spanish, dolor can mean physical agony, and llanto is a violent, open-mouthed sobbing.