Should I call it tears, or a sigh riding on the wind? It came so unbridled/uncontrolled that what can I say?

Ah, my friend, imagine a grief so profound, Ghalib grapples for its name. He asks, "Is it a tear, or a sigh riding the wind—a 'sawaar-e-hawa'?" The emotion arrived so 'inaaN-guseekhta'—that's like a wild horse that's snapped its reins, completely uncontrolled. It's that rush of feeling, too sudden and immense to categorize, bursting forth from deep within. More than a tear or a sigh, it's a wild, untamed force that sweeps you away. Think of a sudden, violent tempest, not just bad weather, but something that leaves you stunned and breathless. Ghalib, who knew sorrow intimately, experienced this raw, unbidden pain that defies words. It's when anguish reaches such a pitch that language simply fails to capture its devastating impact. This couplet speaks to profound suffering, an untamed river of feeling that reshapes the soul itself. It's the moment when only the raw, overwhelming experience remains, beyond all definition.