"We Are Many" is quite a short poem (by Pablo Neruda 1904-1973.)
In Related links, below this answer, is a link to a copy of the whole poem.
Here is one possible version. (But if you have been asked to write a summary, it would be better, and quite easy, to do one for yourself!)
---- -Summary-
Of the many people that each of us are, which one are we really?
When I think I am clever, the fool in me speaks.
When I am ready to be courageous, a thousand reservations reveal the coward that I also am.
Instead of being a rescuing fireman, I find myself the arsonist. What's wrong with me?
What I lack in myself I admire in others. I envy all those fearless heroes. I envy the cowboys. I even envy their horses!
When I want to be dashing, I am just plain lazy.
Who am I? How many am I?
If I am many, whom shall we yet be?
I want to know who I really am, in case I ever need myself!
As I write I am far away, so far that I can't find 'me' anymore.
Does this happen to anyone else?
Maybe the answer lies, not in terms of self, but in terms of geography!
-end of summary-
---- For complete poem, see Related links below.
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