The Banished Immortal
Li Bai (李白 Lǐ Bái, 701–762) is the most legendary figure in Chinese literature — a poet so extraordinary that his contemporaries suspected he wasn't entirely human. The court poet He Zhizhang (贺知章 Hè Zhīzhāng), upon reading Li Bai's verse for the first time, declared him a "banished immortal" (谪仙人 zhéxiānrén) — a celestial being exiled to earth, presumably for some heavenly misconduct. The nickname stuck, because it explained what could not otherwise be explained: how one man could write so much, so brilliantly, so seemingly without effort.
Over a thousand of his poems survive — a staggering output for a poet whose method appeared to be drinking enormous quantities of wine and writing whatever came to mind. He wrote in virtually every form available: regulated verse (律诗 lǜshī), jueju (绝句 juéjù), ancient-style verse (古体诗 gǔtǐ shī), and the longer ballad forms. His range is unmatched: cosmic fantasy, drinking songs, frontier laments, love poems, political satire, Daoist meditations, and poems about the moon — always the moon.
The Mysterious Origins
Li Bai's birthplace is disputed. Most scholars place it in Suiye (碎叶 Suìyè), in present-day Kyrgyzstan — deep in Central Asia, far from the Chinese cultural heartland. His family may have been merchants along the Silk Road, which would explain his lifelong restlessness and his somewhat outsider's relationship to Tang Dynasty (唐朝 Tángcháo) high culture.
He grew up in Sichuan province, where he studied Daoist (道家 Dàojiā) philosophy, practiced swordsmanship, and developed the two habits that would define his life: wandering and drinking. By his mid-twenties, he had left Sichuan to travel the empire, seeking fame, adventure, and an appointment at court.
The wandering was strategic as well as temperamental. In Tang Dynasty China, poetic reputation was a career path. A talented poet who attracted the right patron could leap directly into the imperial administration. Li Bai wrote poems at every stop, cultivated powerful friends, and gradually built a reputation that reached the capital.
The Court Years
In 742, Li Bai achieved his dream: Emperor Xuanzong (唐玄宗 Táng Xuánzōng) summoned him to the Hanlin Academy (翰林院 Hànlín Yuàn) in Chang'an. The appointment was a poet's fantasy — unlimited access to the court, imperial patronage, and the admiration of the most sophisticated literary culture in the world.
It lasted less than two years. The problem was partly political — Li Bai made enemies among the court eunuchs — but mostly temperamental. He was too independent, too fond of wine, and too willing to say exactly what he thought. According to legend (possibly apocryphal but entirely plausible), he once demanded that the powerful eunuch Gao Lishi (高力士 Gāo Lìshì) remove his boots while he composed poems for the emperor — an act of spectacular arrogance that guaranteed his eventual dismissal.
The poems from this period include the "Three Poems on the Pure Brightness" (清平调三首 Qīng Píng Diào Sān Shǒu), written to describe the consort Yang Guifei (杨贵妃 Yáng Guìfēi) in the imperial garden. They are among the most beautiful occasional poems in Chinese literature — and they were composed, according to tradition, while Li Bai was too drunk to stand.
The Wandering Years
After his dismissal from court, Li Bai resumed wandering — this time with an edge of bitterness. His poetry from this period oscillates between Daoist acceptance and frustrated ambition, cosmic joy and deep loneliness. "Drinking Alone Under the Moon" (月下独酌 Yuè Xià Dú Zhuó) captures both:
> 举杯邀明月 (I raise my cup to invite the bright moon) > 对影成三人 (With my shadow we become three)
The comedy — a man so alone he conscripts his shadow and the moon as drinking companions — barely conceals the melancholy. Li Bai wanted to matter. He wanted to serve. The court threw him out, and the wilderness, however beautiful, was not where he wanted to be.
His "Bringing Wine" (将进酒 Qiāng Jìn Jiǔ) is the supreme expression of defiant joy in the face of failure:
> 天生我材必有用 (Heaven gave me talents — they must be useful) > 千金散尽还复来 (A thousand gold pieces scattered will all come back) Explore further: Du Fu: The Conscience of Chinese Poetry.
The confidence is almost unreasonable. Li Bai has been fired from the only job he ever wanted, and he responds by declaring that the universe owes him a comeback. This cosmic optimism — the belief that talent guarantees significance, that expenditure guarantees return — is Li Bai's signature emotional posture.
The Rebellion and Its Aftermath
The An Lushan Rebellion (安史之乱 Ān Shǐ zhī Luàn) of 755 caught Li Bai in southern China. He made what would prove to be the worst decision of his life: he joined the staff of Prince Yong (永王 Yǒng Wáng), a minor prince who was attempting to establish an independent power base. When Prince Yong's rebellion failed, Li Bai was arrested and sentenced to exile in Yelang, a remote region in present-day Guizhou.
He was pardoned before reaching Yelang — the imperial government apparently deciding that exiling a national treasure to the wilderness was excessive. His poem celebrating the pardon, "Early Departure from White Emperor City" (早发白帝城 Zǎo Fā Bái Dì Chéng), captures the ecstasy of reprieve:
> 朝辞白帝彩云间 (At dawn I leave White Emperor City amid colored clouds) > 千里江陵一日还 (A thousand li to Jiangling — one day's journey home) > 两岸猿声啼不住 (On both banks, monkeys cry without cease) > 轻舟已过万重山 (My light boat has already passed ten thousand layers of mountains)
The speed of the poem — the boat seems to fly — mirrors the speed of emotional release. The mountains, the monkeys, the clouds — everything blurs as Li Bai races back to freedom. It's one of the purest expressions of joy in Chinese literature.
Death and Legend
Li Bai died in 762, probably of alcohol-related illness while staying with a relative in Dangtu. But the legend is better: he drowned while drunkenly trying to embrace the moon's reflection in the Yangtze River. The poet who spent his life reaching for impossible beauty — the moon, immortality, the perfect poem — finally reached too far.
Du Fu (杜甫 Dù Fǔ), his greatest contemporary and closest artistic counterpart, wrote several elegies for Li Bai that rank among the finest poems either man produced. The two poets represent complementary visions of Chinese literature: Li Bai the transcendent, Du Fu the humane; Li Bai the Daoist, Du Fu the Confucian; Li Bai the comet, Du Fu the bedrock.
Together, they are called the "Poetry Immortal and Poetry Sage" (诗仙诗圣 shīxiān shīshèng) — the twin peaks of Tang poetry (唐诗 Tángshī) and of Chinese literary civilization itself.