beside your older sibling, Sheaf-Stern, once
I fought—on asteroid in clash of spears,
the Battle of the Sundered Caves, at which
the Spear-Folk watch-post rock near take, do split
and cleave in two, so those who fight within
face caverns sudden gaping ope to void.
But Sheaf-Stern will not quail: unruffled voice
he sends from Hailing Harvest’s cockpit clear
to us, the fledgling blades he oversees.
Arms to hand we have but few, so ice
in shards from floor of planetoid he tears,
and at the Spear-Folk line he flings them fast,
so dealing grisly blows, and thus with hope
anew up-sprung our youthful troop goes forth,
the war-song yells with hail-shield overhead,
the Spear-Folk trench achieves and cleans of foes,
and each of us a sword-edge mires in oil
of hostile armours dazed and overcome.

I like having a licence to digress. The Taru like the historic present (as also seen in CWKB books II and III).