Here’s Basil Bunting’s version - an ‘overdraft’, not a strict translation - unpublished in his lifetime:

Like a fawn you dodge me, Molly,

a lost fawn.

A breath of wind scares her.

Leaves rustle, or a rabbit

stirs, and her heart flutters,

her knees quiver.

But it’s me chasing you, Molly,

not a tiger, not to tear you.

Let mother go,

you’re old enough for a man.