Prompt: A nightingale king in the birds kingdom among old dream forest with tree-palace in the centre of the kingdom, it's warm autumn outside, sundown, dramatic colors
Prompt: A cherry orchard near the house The cherry bugs are buzzing over the cherries.
Plowmen with plows are coming,
Girls sing as they go,
And mothers are waiting for dinner.
The family is having dinner around the house.
The evening star rises.
The daughter serves dinner,
And the mother wants to teach,
But the nightingale won't let her.
The mother laid down her little children
Her little children;
She fell asleep beside them.
All was quiet, except for the girls.
But the nightingale did not stop
Prompt: The crimson stars were burning magnificently
Once upon a time in spring,
The birds' chorus of love
The forest vowels;
And played with rays, with a clear gem
Morning dew,
And smiled with a spring greeting
The beauty of nature.
A magnificent rose was burning proudly,
The best of all flowers
With its colour and fragrance
Decorated the garden.
And the nightingale to the beautiful rose
Sang so sweetly to the rose,
With a lovely voice, a singer of charm
He developed the gardens; he sang farewell to the evening dawn,
That was burning above,
And sang even louder to greet
To the early dawn...
He has already flown away like a bird,
The time of spring
Cold autumn, free autumn
Reigns in our country.
The autumn night is falling quietly
The hour is sad;
The moon is cooling its rays;
The echo is far away
The owl's cry is the only one;
The grove is mute.
Where is the nightingale? Where is the nightingale's song?
Oh, where is it? He is gone!
He has flown away to the wilderness, where spring is eternal,
An inspired singer.
There is a beautiful face there forever,
There is a warm breeze;
All is deaf and dull in the vastness.
My grove is sad!
The singer left you in sorrow and grief,
You and your native land.
Such silence now reigns everywhere.
Only in the dry leaves
The wind sighs, like a dryad grieving,
With deafening regret.
Why don't I have a fiery word?
Why don't I have a fiery word?
Perhaps that sincere, hot speech
Could have broken the winter!
And would always be spread in the grove
A clear and loud
Song, and would have blossomed in my native land
A new spring would have blossomed in my native land.
I wish I had nightingale wings,
And my own will
I would not leave you alone,
My country!
Prompt: Inspired by Oscar Wilde's tale The Nightingale and the Rose: An evening landscape, the nightingale sings its best song, and the thorn of the rosebush pierces its heart. The blood of the nightingale colored the rose, and the magnificent rose became as red as the sunrise in the eastern sky.
Dream Level: is increased each time when you "Go Deeper" into the dream. Each new level is harder to achieve and
takes more iterations than the one before.
Rare Deep Dream: is any dream which went deeper than level 6.
Deep Dream
You cannot go deeper into someone else's dream. You must create your own.
Deep Dream
Currently going deeper is available only for Deep Dreams.
