His hoarse, smoky voice, cloud covering the moon as the saying went, was listened to everywhere, by farmers in fields, workers commuting and, especially, by taxi drivers, to while the traffic away.
“在一个月黑风高的夜晚”,当单田芳那沙哑浑厚的声音响起,无论身在何处,田地里劳作的农夫,上下班的工人,尤其是那些路上的出租车司机们,都会静下来收听他的节目。