The Solar Ontology and the Mythological Deconstruction: Subterranean Origin, Hydrological Cosmology, and the Naturalist Refutation of Divine Agency in Li Bai's "Song of Sunrise and Sunset"
The Subterranean Origin and the Absence of the Dragon Chariot's Garage
Li Bai's Ri Chu Xing (日出行)—a High Tang gushi that operates as a systematic demolition of Han dynasty solar mythology—opens with a devastating geological reorientation of the celestial body: Ri chu dong fang wei, si cong di di lai. Li tian you ru hai, liu long suo she an zai zai? (日出东方隈，似从地底来。历天又入海，六龙所舍安在哉？). The "eastern corner" (dong fang wei) is not a horizon but a topographical recess, a geological fold from which the sun appears to be "excavated" from the earth's interior. This subterranean origin destabilizes the entire solar cosmology: the star does not merely rise but is pulled from the mineral depths, its light a byproduct of geological extraction. The traversal "across the sky and into the sea" (li tian you ru hai) completes a diurnal circuit that returns the sun to its liquid grave, a hydro-terrestrial loop that mocks the mythological narrative of celestial residence. The "six dragons" (liu long)—the celestial team that pulls the solar chariot in Han mythology—are interrogated by the devastating question: "where is their stable?" (suo she an zai zai). The garage is missing. The dragons have no depot, no rest station, no architectural proof of their existence. The opening thus establishes a solar phenomenology stripped of its mythological infrastructure: the sun moves, but the movers are unverifiable, and the chariot has no parking place.
The Vitalist Continuum and the Human Exclusion from Perpetual Motion
The second stanza introduces a devastating ontological audit of the human subject's metabolic inadequacy: Qi shi yu zhong gu bu xi, ren fei yuan qi, an de yu zhi jiu pai huai? (其始与终古不息，人非元气，安得与之久徘徊？). The "beginning and end" (qi shi yu zhong) that "from antiquity never rests" (gu bu xi) establishes a temporal regime of absolute continuity, a mechanical perpetuity that mocks the human incapacity for endurance. The "humans are not primordial vapor" (ren fei yuan qi) is the ontological death sentence: the human subject is composed of perishable matter, not the undying yuanqi that fuels the solar engine. The "how can they" (an de) "long linger and pace with it" (yu zhi jiu pai huai) is not a rhetorical question but a biological verdict. The human body lacks the metabolic substrate to synchronize with the solar cycle; we are temporary passengers who must disembark while the sun continues its route. The stanza thus establishes a vitalist hierarchy: the sun operates on cosmic qi, and the human operates on borrowed qi, and the debt must be paid in death.
The Vegetal Amorality and the Absence of the Cosmic Driver
The third stanza delivers the poem's masterful naturalist ethics: Cao bu xie rong yu chun feng, mu bu yuan luo yu qiu tian. Shui hui bian ce qu si yun? Wan wu xing xie jie zi ran. (草不谢荣于春风，木不怨落于秋天。谁挥鞭策驱四运？万物兴歇皆自然。). The "grass does not thank" (cao bu xie) its "flourishing in the spring wind" (rong yu chun feng), and the "trees do not resent" (mu bu yuan) their "falling in autumn days" (luo yu qiu tian). The vegetal world operates without gratitude or grievance, without the moral accounting that humans impose on the seasons. The grass does not owe the spring a debt, and the trees do not file a complaint against autumn. The "who" (shui) that "wields the whip and staff" (hui bian ce) to "drive the four seasons" (qu si yun) is a rhetorical demolition of teleology: there is no driver, no charioteer, no divine administrator behind the seasonal rotation. The "ten thousand things' rise and rest" (wan wu xing xie) are "all natural" (jie zi ran), a spontaneous operation that requires no external authorization. The stanza thus establishes a Daoist cosmology in which nature is self-authorizing, and the search for a cosmic driver is a category error.
The Drowning of the Solar Goddess and the Deconstruction of the Heroic Stay
The fourth stanza performs a double demolition of solar mythology: Xi he! Xi he! Ru xi gu mo yu huang yin zhi bo? Lu yang he de, zhu jing hui ge? Ni dao wei tian, jiao wu shi duo. (羲和！羲和！汝奚汩没于荒淫之波？鲁阳何德，驻景挥戈？逆道违天，矫诬实多。). The apostrophe "Xi He! Xi He!" is a direct address to the solar goddess, the driver of the sun chariot, and the question "why have you submerged and drowned" (ru xi gu mo) in the "vast and dissolute waves" (huang yin zhi bo) transforms the mythological figure from a celestial administrator into a hydrological victim. The goddess has drowned in the very waves she was supposed to navigate, her agency dissolved by the ocean she sought to cross. The "Lu Yang" reference—the legendary general who waved his spear at the sun to halt its descent and gain time for battle—is subjected to a devastating ethical audit: "what virtue" (he de) did he possess to "stop the light and brandish his spear" (zhu jing hui ge)? The answer is none. The act is "against the way, violating heaven" (ni dao wei tian), a "forced falsehood" (jiao wu) that "is truly manifold" (shi duo). The stanza thus exposes both the solar driver and the solar stopper as frauds: the goddess is drowned, and the hero is a criminal against cosmic law.
The Cosmic Enclosure and the Identification with Primordial Chaos
The poem achieves its terminal resolution through a devastating gesture of cosmic appropriation and ontological dissolution: Wu jiang nang guo da kuai, hao ran yu ming xing tong ke. (吾将囊括大块，浩然与溟涬同科。). The "I will" (wu jiang) "encompass and contain" (nang guo) the "great clod" (da kuai)—the entire terrestrial mass—is a gesture of total cosmic seizure. The poet does not merely observe the sun but claims the earth itself as his domain. The "vast and flowing" (hao ran) identification with the "primordial chaos" (ming xing) is the ultimate Daoist dissolution of the subject. The mingxing is the pre-cosmic soup, the undifferentiated vapor before heaven and earth separated, and to be "of the same class" (tong ke) as it is to abandon the human form and merge with the undying substrate. The closing line thus establishes the poet's ultimate response to solar perpetuity: if he cannot outlast the sun as a human, he will outlast it as chaos, as vapor, as the primordial medium that precedes and survives all celestial mechanics. The poem stands as the definitive monument to the High Tang solar deconstruction: the sun rises from the earth, the dragons have no stable, the humans are not vapor, the grass feels no gratitude, the driver has drowned, the hero was a fraud, and the only remaining option is to become the chaos that contains them all.
